Ghosts Numbers 1,000 and 1,001
by Aquarian Wolf
Summary: Finished! Will two young ghosts find their place in Gracey Manor, save it from becoming a mall, and stop the evil Madam Leota?
1. Interview with Master Gracey

Welcome, foolish mortals to another HM fanfic! This was an idea I've been tweaking with for a few months and I finally decided to type it up. I hope you enjoy it, and if you do, send me a review and I'll continue the story.

Disney owns The Haunted Mansion. Master George Gracey is a cast member/fan creation, although in this story he is heavily influenced by the Ghost Host, which is a Disney character. Myrriah and Courtney are my own original characters. The notice is actually from the Disneyland ride.

**Ghosts Numbers 1000 and 1001**

"Notice! All Ghosts and Restless Spirits, post-lifetime leases are now available in this Haunted Mansion! Don't be left out in the sunshine! Leases include license to scare the daylights out of guests visiting the Portrait Gallery, the graveyard, and other happy haunting grounds. For reservations, send resume of past experience to: Ghost Relations Dept."

"Myrriah, you've read that sign three times already," said Courtney with a huff. "Now, let's just go."

Myrriah pushed up her glasses and squinted at the sign. "Do you see any fine print?"

"No, there is no fine print. Come on, we shouldn't keep him waiting. And it's starting to rain. And I'm cold." Courtney shivered.

"We're always cold. It's comes with the whole being-dead-thing." Myrriah frowned and looked back at the sign. "I just don't know about this."

"'Don't know about this'?" Courtney demanded. She put her hands on her hips. "We have an opportunity to haunt the Gracey Mansion and you're getting cold feet?"

Myrriah shrugged.

"Who told everyone at school all of those stories about Gracey Manor?" demanded Courtney.

"Me," Myrriah muttered.

"Who came up with five reasons as to why Master Gracey killed himself?"

"It was six reasons."

"And who used to take pictures of the mansion every day, just to see if ghosts would show up in the picture?"

"I did."

"Who suggested that we check out the house and see if it was really haunted?"

"Me."

"And who said, 'We should totally haunt this place when we become ghosts'?"

"I did."

"And who made that pact with you when we died that we would come back and haunt the mansion?"

Myrriah smiled. "You did."

"So what's the problem?" asked Courtney.

"I don't know. What if it's like a country club? And all the ghosts are snobs?"

"Then we won't stay."

"What if you really like the house, and I don't?" asked Myrriah.

"Like I'm just gonna ditch you like that," said Courtney. "Honestly, how many years have we been friends?"

Myrriah pondered it for a moment. "You know, I've lost count."

"Exactly," said Courtney, as if that settled the matter entirely.

* * *

"I've had job interviews that weren't this awkward," Myrriah hissed into Courtney's ear. 

Both friends sat in very old, dust-coated chairs in front of a large equally ancient desk. Seated at the desk was none other than the master of the mansion, George Gracey. He was surprisingly young looking, hardly past his mid thirties, but the girls couldn't tell if he had died at that age, or simply chose to look that young. Ghosts can very easily alter their appearance. Myrriah and Courtney both suspected that George was the vain sort who would make himself seem much younger.

His youth didn't catch them off guard as much as his voice did. He had a deep, almost silky voice that could easily change from comforting to threatening. He was also quite the dramatic as well, and he had a strong aristocratic flair to him that greatly reflected his high social standing.

He read over their application forms, one hand resting on the desk, drumming his fingers.

"You used to haunt an elementary school?" he asked.

"Yeah," answered Courtney. "Why? Is there something wrong with that?"

George looked up from the papers. "No, I just thought it was funny." He set the forms down on the desk.

"What makes you want to haunt Gracey Manor?"

"Nothing better to do," said Courtney.

Myrriah elbowed her side. "What my friend means to say is that we've been on this earth long enough to go everywhere we wanted to go: historical monuments, old hang-outs, family members' houses. After traveling, we took up haunting as a hobby."

George smiled. "Why did you get into haunting?"

Both girls shrugged. "For kicks," they answered simultaneously.

"It says here you died at the age of thirteen. How did that happen?"

Both friends looked at each other solemnly.

Myrriah sighed. "Fine, I'll say it." She cleared her throat. "Rampaging emus."

"What?" George asked.

"Rampaging emus," Myrriah repeated slowly.

"You know," said Courtney. "They're kind of like ostriches, only smaller."

"I know what an emu is," said George. "But...death by emu?"

"Yep," said Courtney. "One of the zookeepers left the gate of the emu cage open, let out a couple dozen of them."

"Tragic," said Myrriah. "Two fatalities."

"Yeah," added Courtney. "Us. Scarred me for the rest of my afterlife."

"I'm emotionally traumatized."

"She's got night terrors now."

"And she twitches."

George looked over their paperwork again. "What kind of people..." he paused to think of the right word, "do you tend to work around?"

"Little kids mostly," said Courtney. "They're a lot of fun."

"What is your area of expertise?" asked George.

"We try to be subtle," said Myrriah. "We move stuff, mix things up, turn radios on and off, little things that people don't quite notice right away."

"Have you ever harmed anybody?"

Both girls shook their heads.

"Why do you want to haunt here?"

"This is the coolest haunted house in the world," said Courtney. "We've been telling stories and listening to tales about this mansion for years. We're huge fans."

"Well," said George with a grin, "welcome aboard, ladies." He set their resumes down and shook their hands. "Ghosts number 1,000." He looked at Courtney. "And 1,001." He glanced at Myrriah. "Enjoy your stay at the haunted mansion."


	2. The Bratty Bride

Author's Notes: I didn't create the Haunted Mansion or the bride in the attic; Disney owns them. Emily is a fan created name. Myrriah and Courtney are my characters. Emily is a little bit OoC compared to my other HM fanfic, but it works, plus she's got a lot more personality here.

* * *

"I can't wait until we get some visitors," said Courtney. "So, where are we stationed?"

Myrriah looked down at the paper George had given them. "The attic."

"Ooh, spooky." Courtney rubbed her hands together. "Let's go."

The attic was cluttered, but not so much that there wasn't a path. Old newspapers, books, trunks, toys, and various other brick-a-brack were lying about. In the far corner, a small group of bats was hanging upside down, napping.

"George seriously needs to consider a garage sale," Myrriah muttered. She picked up a New York Times from 1929. "Hey, wha' da ya know, the stock market crashed."

Courtney laughed. "So, whom were we supposed to meet? Don't we a have a partner?"

"That," said a young woman as she stepped out of the shadows, "would be me."

The transparent woman wore a long, flowing bridal gown and held a candle in one hand. Her long, white hair flowed behind her. Her glowing red heart could be seen as it pounded.

"You must be the two new ghosts." She didn't wait for them to confirm it. "I'm Emily. And you are?"

"Courtney."

"Myrriah."

"Charmed," Emily muttered. "Well, I suppose we're roommates now, so to speak. I have a gimmick already. What I do is float in that corner over there," she pointed to the far corner, "and look all depressed and forlorn."

Myrriah and Courtney looked slightly doubtful.

"Look, it creeps people out," said Emily. "Trust me, I've been doing this for years." She studied them for a moment. "How did you guys die?"

"Well," said Courtney, "Myrriah went through this phase where she wanted to be a snake charmer...And you can figure out where it went."

Emily nodded. "I was murdered on my wedding night. I was locked in this trunk." She tapped an old trunk with her foot. "Some jealous, horrible person shut it and locked it while I was playing hide and seek with my new husband." She sniffed dramatically and wiped away a nonexistent tear and sobbed loudly.

Myrriah and Courtney looked at each other with arched eyebrows.

"Well, enough of my tragic story," said Emily as she held back another fake sob. "Let's figure out what to do with you two." She pondered it for a moment. "I know!"

* * *

"What are we supposed to be doing again?" asked Courtney.

"You two just stand there and make me look spooky and pretty," Emily said.

Myrriah glanced down at her horrid tangerine colored dress. "And what are we supposed to be?"

"My bridesmaids."

"I hate tangerine," muttered Courtney.

"And I hate dresses," Myrriah added.

"Be quiet!" Emily hissed. "Some visitors are coming!" She straightened up, cleared her throat, and made her face look sad and grim.

Several ghouls hiding behind boxes and trunks at the entrance of the attic sprang up and shrieked as a trio of kids walked into the attic. The three kids looked to be somewhere between nine and thirteen years old. And they looked terrified.

Myrriah and Courtney shot sympathetic looks to each other.

"Stand straight," Emily hissed. "And look depressed."

Myrriah and Courtney rolled their eyes, but did as she said.

The terrified looking children approached Emily slowly.

"I want to leave," said a girl. "I don't like this place. I'm scared!" She tugged on a boy's sleeve.

"You know what," Myrriah said to Courtney. "I don't think he's coming back." She smiled.

Courtney looked down at her watch, which had stopped when she had died."It has been a long time. Do you think the poor groom got cold feet on his wedding day?"

"I think if a guy stands you up on your wedding day, it's not a good idea to marry him. I mean, if the jerk won't even call after a hundred years or even write some kind of note or letter, then you should just get on with your life. But some people..." Myrriah rolled her eyes.

"Well, hopefully, we'll get some cake out of this," Courtney said.

Myrriah and Courtney sighed dramatically and shook their heads.

The three kids laughed.

"What a ditz!" said the boy. "How stupid do you have to be to wait for your boyfriend until you die?

"Yeah," agreedthe girl. "You'd have to be a real idiot to die for some jerk like that." The kids laughed and walked out of the attic.

Emily waited until they were gone, then she lost her composure. "You two," she fumed, "made me look like an idiot! What is your problem?"

"We were just trying to lighten the mood," said Courtney. "Did you see how scared they were? We don't like to terrify little kids."

"Lighten up," Myrriah told Emily. "You take this way too seriously."

Emily snarled.

* * *

"Those two buffoons humiliated me!" Emily screamed. "Right in front of some guests, they made me look like an idiot! I have never been so insulted in all my afterlife!" She huffed.

They were back in George's office. Emily had been outraged by their "atrocious outburst" and demanded that they be "removed from her sight".

George cast a glance over the sheepish duo.

Myrriah shrugged. "We were just trying to make the whole thing a little more entertaining."

"Yeah," Courtney added, "what's the big deal?"

"The 'big deal' is that I had my own little show going and you two-"

"Upstaged you?" George suggested.

Emily looked slightly miffed. "Upstaged wasn't exactly the word I was looking for."

"This isn't going to work out," said George.


	3. A Swinging Wake

Author's Notes: Disney owns the Haunted Mansion. Courtney and Myrriah are characters I created. I named the organ player after Xavier Antencio and Buddy Baker, who wrote the song "Grim, Grinning Ghosts."

* * *

"How was it that you died?" asked the young man as he and Myrriah twirled across the dance floor.

"Well, " Myrriah began, "we built this tree house and we forgot to nail it down to the tree, and then that tornado came up..."

"Is this all you know how to play?" asked Courtney.

The organ player, a very stern and serious looking man, crossed his arms over his chest. "No. I am the world famous Xavier Baker, the most talented organ player of my time."

"Of your time, maybe. Get with the 21st century, buddy. This stuff gets so depressing after a while. Ooh! I know!"

The dancers stopped in their tracks and stared at Courtney, who was now playing a peculiar song on the organ.

Myrriah sighed.

"What song is she playing?" asked the ghost Myrriah was dancing with.

"Bohemian Rhapsody," Myrriah muttered as she rubbed her temples and sighed. "I'll go talk to her." She turned to walk away. "Oh, hold that dance for me, I'll be right back!"

As Myrriah approached the organ, Mr. Baker was yelling, "They don't like the song changed!"

"Everyone's dancing," Courtney said as she continued to play. "What's the big deal?"

"It's not the dancers I'm worried about!"

Myrriah approached the organ. "What did I tell you about playing Queen music?"

Before Courtney could answer, skull like wraiths flew out of the organ.

"What are those...things?" asked Courtney.

"Those are the things that don't like the music changed," Mr. Baker said in a condescending tone. "And if I were you, I would DUCK!"

The wraiths began dive-bombing Courtney and Myrriah, and then flew after the dancers. The once graceful dancers slipped and tripped as the wraiths flew past like torpedoes, zipping through guests and wailing at the top of their lungs.

Mr. Baker grabbed a net from behind the organ. "Okay, guys, back in the pipes!" He took off after the wispy skulls.

"Something tells me a butterfly net isn't going to do much good," Myrriah muttered.

"Well, what are you two just standing around for? Catch them!" Mr. Baker yelled.

The girls nodded and took off after the wraiths.

"Got one!" Courtney cried triumphantly. "Uh, what do I do with it?"

"Stuff it back in the organ!" Mr. Baker yelled. "Once you put them back, they won't come back out!"

This continued for nearly five more minutes until there was only one little wraith left...

It hovered tauntingly at the end of the long dinner table in the middle of the ballroom. Sitting at the far end of the table, oblivious to the goings-on, Victoria. She tugged at a stray strand of orange hair. "What to wish for..." she muttered as she stared down at her birthday cake.

"Got cha'!" cried Myrriah as she leapt for the wraith. It jumped up out of her reach and she slid across the table, crashing into plates and glasses. Victoria grabbed her cake and jumped up as Myrriah slid off the end of the table and crashed into her. The cake flew in the air and landed on their heads.

Myrriah grinned sheepishly and blew out the flame on the candle on Victoria's head. "Happy death day?" Myrriah said with a weak smile and a shrug. The little wraith bounced on the cake, singing "Happy Birthday to You" in a squeaky, high-pitched voice.


	4. The Graveyard Jamboree

A/N: I got the names for the singing busts from the book _The Haunted Mansion: From the Magic Kingdom to the Movies_ by Jason Surrell, an incredible book that I highly recommend for any Disney or Haunted Mansion fan. The name Dustin T. Dust is on one of the mausoleums just outside the ride's exit, but the character is my own creation. The name Rolly is a tip of the hat to Imagineer Rolly Crump.

* * *

Myrriah and Courtney stepped off of Gracey Manor's back porch and stopped at the entrance to the biggest cemetery they had ever seen. Acres upon acres of land were covered with scattered headstones, which seemed to jut out from the earth, and dozens of mausoleums, some simple and modest, and some extravagant and flashy, stood like small houses. Spooks of all shapes and sizes played, laughed, and danced as a nearby band performed a jazzy tune. Ghouls sprang up from behind gravestones, shrieking and cackling. Wispy spirits rose up from their graves and soared up into the night sky. Not even the most gifted and brilliant of poets could accurately describe this majestic sight. 

"Jeezum crow," said Courtney. "That's a lot of dead people."

And neither could our young protagonists.

"Have you ever seen so many ghosts at one time?" she continued. "Kinda makes you feel a little insignificant, doesn't it? I mean, it's like, 'Boo-hoo, I'm dead, no more life, I'm a ghost, woe is me'. And then you see all of these ghosts and think 'Wow, I'm not so alone in this whole being dead thing, and maybe I'm _not _so special after all'. What do you think?" She turned to Myrriah, her hazel eyes wide with the excitement of her revelation.

"I think your philosophical contemplations are so staggering that Socrates and Plato themselves would bow down in awe," replied Myrriah. She began to walk down a slight hill into the graveyard.

"Really? You mean it?" Courtney pondered it for a moment. "Wait, you're being sarcastic again, aren't you?"

Myrriah turned around. "Nah." She pushed her glasses up the bridge of her nose.

"Hey, you're doing that 'glasses thing'. You only do the glasses thing when you're lying to me!"

"No way." She pushed up her glasses again. "So what do we do here?"

"Well," said Courtney after a quick glance at her watch, which was still completely useless, "there haven't been any, uh, 'guests'," she made quotation marks with her fingers, "for a while and it seems pretty late, so I'm guessing there won't be many, if any, more tonight."

"So?" asked Myrriah.

"So, we party!"

"That, my friend, is a brilliant thought."

They wandered further into the graveyard, past the terrified mortal caretaker, who had run away, screaming, after Courtney had walked up to him and said, "What's wrong? You look like you've seen a ghost." Although his terrified yelling had been pretty much unintelligible, it seemed to have been along the lines of "This ain't worth nine bucks an hour!"

"Oh cool!" exclaimed Courtney. "A band!" She pointed to a group of minstrels that consisted of a kilt-wearing spook playing bagpipes; a ghost sitting in a coffin playing a flute; a spirit enthusiastically tooting a horn; and a drummer, who was beating on a casket with two bones.

"Hey!" she called out as she waved to them, "would you guys like an experienced piccolo player to join your group?"

The band exchanged uneasy glances and then huddled together. After a few moments of discussion they looked up. "Sure," said the drummer.

"All right!" Courtney shouted. "You guys rock! I'll be right there!" To Myrriah she said, "You don't mind if I hang out with them for a little while, do you? I don't want to ditch you."

"Go ahead, I'll be fine," said Myrriah nonchalantly. "I'll just mingle for a bit."

"'Kay, I'll see you in a few." She rushed off to join the band.

"Hey, there, little lady," a baritone voice called out, causing Myrriah to jump. She turned around to see five marble busts, each with a name placard underneath of them.

"Uh, hi," said Myrriah to the bust that had spoken. It was broken, the head laying pitifully on its side. She peered down at his name. "Uncle Theodore. Good evening."

"Good evening to you, too," said a bust named Rollo Rumkin. "Welcome to the graveyard jamboree."

"You're not one of the two new ghosts, are you?" asked a bust called Ned Nub.

The bust to Ned's left, Cousin Algernon, rolled his eyes. "Of course she is, dimwit. Who else would she be?"

"It was just an honest mistake," said P. Pock, who was to Ned's right. "There's no need for name calling, Al."

"Stuff it," said Algernon.

"See, this is why I hate being between you two," said Ned. "All you do is fight. And no matter how much we rehearse, you're always flat."

"You guys sing?" asked Myrriah, hoping to break up the argument.

Rollo grinned. "We've been a group for…" He paused. "Gosh, I can't remember."

"Do you want to hear our singing?" asked Uncle Theodore.

"Sure!" Myrriah said.

"Okay, boys," said Uncle Theodore. He cleared his throat and they started to sing. In perfect tone and pitch, they sang "Grim Grinning Ghosts".

"You guys are great," Myrriah said. "What do you call yourselves?"

"Well, I'm Ned Neb," Ned said brightly. "That's Rollo and he's Theo—"

"She means what's the name of our group, you twit," Algernon explained.

"Oh."

Theodore decided to answer her question. "We're the Mellow Men."

"No," said Rollo slowly. "We're the Phantom Five."

"That's not what it said on our contract."

"That contract expired when we expired. Now we're the Phantom Five!"

"Clearly, there's been some misunderstanding," said Pock to Ned.

"My name's not Clearly, it's Ned." Ned replied.

"Oh, will you two shut up!" yelled Algernon.

"I'm sick and tired of your attitude," said Pock. "You're the most annoying person anyone could ever be stuck near!"

"Oh, like you can talk? I'm tired of putting up with your nagging!"

"And I'm tired of your ego. If your head we're any bigger—"

Ned laughed. "Big head. It's funny 'cause we're just heads." He chuckled weakly. "I'll just be quiet now."

"Good," said Algernon. "Now be quiet for the next century or two."

"Don't be such a bully," snapped Pock.

And that started up another round of arguments. Myrriah walked away. After spotting an old hearse buggy, she leaned against it with a heavy sigh. Perhaps coming here had not been such a genius idea after all. She glanced over at the band. Courtney seemed to be getting along just fine as she joked with them. Myrriah could overhear her say something about being attacked by "rabid, flesh eating llamas". She couldn't remember how long ago they had started their little game of thinking up bizarre death scenarios, and she couldn't remember who was winning. However, she did know that "rabid, flesh eating llamas" had to be worth at least five points.

"Hello there," a kind voice with a thick English accent said, interrupting her thoughts. Myrriah glanced up to see a man leaning against the hearse, holding a cup of tea. She surmised that he had died quite a long time ago, judging by his clothing. His trousers and shoes would have been a little difficult for her to place in an exact time period, but his coat and top hat appeared to be straight out of the late eighteen hundreds. Rectangular spectacles sat on the end of his nose. He seemed to be about thirty and was tall and thin.

"I take it you're rather new around here," he said with a smile.

Myrriah looked down at her flared jeans, sneakers, and t-shirt for a second, and for the first time realized how much she and Courtney must have stood out compared to the other ghosts. "Yeah, my friend and I just joined this afternoon. I'm Myrriah." She shook his hand.

"Dustin T. Dust, at your humble service." He blinked a few times. "Or is it 'humbly at your service'?" he added thoughtfully. He shook his head. "Bugger it, never mind." He took a sip of his tea. After a moment of silence, he said, "It always bothers me to see someone so young here."

Myrriah looked up at him. He was staring down into his cup, frowning slightly. "I know there are accidents, things that can't be undone," he continued. "And they say things happen for a reason, but I can never fathom why a child's life should be taken."

The sudden loud whinnying of a horse interrupted him. He tore his gaze away from the cup and looked to the front of the buggy. Myrriah hadn't noticed that the harness for the horse was still attached to it. No horse could be seen, but the harness floated in the air, proof that a ghostly horse was indeed hitched to the hearse.

"Quiet, Rolly," Dustin said kindly as he patted what Myrriah assumed to be the horse's back. Dustin chuckled. "He hates it when I babble on. Poor skittish thing is so neurotic he stays invisible." He cleared his throat. "I do apologize for carrying on in such a manner. If it isn't too impolite of me to ask, how long have you been deceased?"

Myrriah thought it over for a moment. "About six months," she answered truthfully. "It doesn't sound like such a long time, but it certainly feels like it."

"How…" He stopped.

"How did me and Courtney die?"

"Yes. I'm-I'm terribly sorry! I was just curious. I hope you don't think of me as rude for inquiring."

"That's not rude at all. Um." She thought about it for a moment. She felt the compelling urge to tell Dustin—or anyone for that matter—the truth. At the same time, she didn't think she could actually make herself say it. A feeling of guilt washed over her. She was tired of playing the game. She had to come clean sooner or later. "You see," she began, "I—" She paused. There was noise coming from the house. She listened. "Somebody's screaming."

Both Dustin and Myrriah turned and looked toward Gracey Manor. The screams were coming from the attic. Many of the other ghosts stopped what they were doing and looked at the mansion, too. It didn't sound like the cries of scared mortals. It sounded like…

"Emily," said Dustin. "I wonder what's wrong."

No sooner had he spoken than Victoria ran out of the house. Ghosts immediately crowded around her, wondering what was going on. "Settle down everyone," said Victoria. The elderly woman waved her hands slightly to signal to everyone to quiet down. After a hush fell over the crowd, she spoke. "Emily is quite all right. It seems that a guest decided to bring a camera with him and he took a few pictures of her without her permission." Victoria grinned. "She started screaming because he got her bad side and her hair was a little frizzy." The ghosts groaned and rolled their eyes. Victoria became serious. "However, she claims that she saw another guest, who was with the first one, grab something and tuck it into his coat. Due to the camera's flash, she didn't see his face or see them run out. Both seem to have vanished. No one saw them run out of the front door. Which means they're probably still hiding in the house. Georgie's looking for them right now."

There were some sniggers from the crowd. "Georgie?" asked Myrriah with an arched eyebrow.

Dustin chuckled. "Victoria is a sweet woman, but she manages to embarrass her nephew on an almost daily basis."

Victoria waited for the chatter to die down. "We do need some help though. Bea Witch, Manny Festation, search the conservatory, please. Pearl E. Gates, check the kitchen. Dustin, help Xavier search in the ballroom."

Dustin nodded. He turned back to Myrriah. "Could you keep an eye on Rolly, please? I'm afraid he might run off if someone isn't here to watch him."

"Sure thing, Mr. Dust." She smiled and waved to him as he walked away. "Okay, Rolly, I'm babysitting you for a while." The invisible horse whinnied. "Don't take that tone with me." Out of the corner of her eye she saw a flash of light in the forest. "What was that?" She had a nagging feeling that she should go investigate; at the same time she knew she couldn't leave the horse. She looked around. Everyone seemed busy, even Courtney. She was having a lengthy discussion with the flute player that involved her shouting a lot and waving her arms around frantically.

Myrriah looked back at the hearse and then back at the woods. "Come on, Rolly, we're going for a little ride."


	5. Runaway Hearse

With a snap of the reins and a "Giddy up", Rolly slowly clomped his way out of the cemetery. Whatever the light in the forest had been, Myrriah knew it had to do with the guests Victoria had mentioned. She knew they had snuck out somehow.

She smiled as she recalled what Courtney had said earlier that evening about the possibility of more visitors. It wasn't that Courtney's intuition was lacking in any way; it was quite the contrary. She was the type of person people didn't play games of chance and Go Fish with. However, she did allow that intuition to be overshadowed at times, especially if there was the chance of going to a party.

Tonight certainly had not been the first time that had happened…

Rolly suddenly reared up, (or Myrriah guessed that he had reared up, judging by the movement of the harness), and whinnied loudly.

"Whoa, calm down, boy!" Myrriah tugged on the reins. "It's okay, Rolly."

Rolly snorted in protest, but became quiet again and started to trudge into the forest.

"What had you so upset?" asked Myrriah kindly.

"Beats me," said a voice behind her.

"Maybe he's just a spaz," added another.

"Silly pony!" cried a third, high-pitched and somewhat gruff voice.

Myrriah turned around to see three men sitting on the roof of the buggy. The first one was somewhat plump, with a round face and a large, lazy smile. He clutched an old, worn carpetbag in one hand. His suit and top hat were just slightly more battered than the bag. The second ghost tipped his derby to her and flashed a skeletal grin. His tattered coat stopped just below his knees and a large bow tie rested under his chin. If Dustin was thin, this guy was emaciated. The third, and last, spirit was short, hardly more than three feet tall. He had messy hair and a thick beard and mustache. His garb was a simple, long shirt and a metal ball shackled to one ankle as a sinister accessory.

Myrriah's mouth finally seemed to catch up with her brain and she finally managed to sputter, "Where did you guys come from?"

"Rumor is the stork brought me," said the ghost with the carpetbag and the big smile. "Don't mind us, we're just catching a ride. I'm Phineas." He grabbed one of Myrriah's hands and shook it.

"Hi, I'm Ezra," said the skinny specter as he grasped Myrriah's other hand.

"Gus," the short spook said simply. Upon realizing that both of Myrriah's hands were being shaken, he grabbed one of her feet and shook it.

She wrenched her hands and her left foot out of their grasps and introduced herself. "Hey, can you guys help me? I think the guests everyone's looking for are hiding in the woods."

"Eh, nothin' better to do," said Ezra with a shrug. "Sure." He furrowed his brow as if in a deep thought and asked, "How'd you die, kid?"

The urge to tell the truth had subsided and her mischievous nature had once again reared its ugly head. "I was on this trek up Mount Everest," she said with a smile. Her voice lowered to a thrilled whisper. "Our guides had advised us to turn back, but we refused. It was too dangerous, they told us. They left us, calling us mad for venturing on. But still we continued up, despite the harsh winds, thin air, and difficult terrain.

"But," here she grew solemn, "our expedition was doomed. Our supplies were getting low and one member had broken one of his legs. We decided to turn back, but it was too late."

The three men leaned in close, eyes wide with awe and jaws dropped in suspense. "What happened?" breathed Gus.

"Avalanche?" asked Phineas.

"Deranged mountain goats?" guessed Ezra.

Myrriah shook her head. Deranged mountain goats had been a good one, though, so she decided to keep it in mind. "No, it was far worse than any of those. It was…" But before she could say "a slobbering, blood thirsty yeti", the bright light once again flashed in the darkness.

Rolly panicked at the sight of this and Myrriah had to calm him down again. "No, that's a good thing, Rolly, it means we're on the right track."

"Let's just hope nothing else freaks out Spazzy McGee." At the very second Ezra had finished the sentence, menacing clouds gathered overhead and lightning streaked across the black sky, quickly followed by deafening thunder.

This was too much for the poor, invisible horse. He reared up with a terrified whinny and took off into the woods at breakneck speed. "No Rolly!" Myrriah screamed. She pulled back on the reins. Ezra, Phineas, and Gus jumped up to help. The four ghosts tugged on the reins in a vain attempt the slow the creature.

The sudden downpour only made things worse and obscured their view. A brilliant flash of lightning gave them a brief glimpse of where they were heading.

"Oh this isn't good," groaned Phineas as the hearse rapidly approached the huge tree. As the three men yelled at the horse and yanked on the reins, Myrriah froze and stared at the oncoming tree in wide-eyed horror.

"Oh please God not again," she whispered.

Memories that had been buried deeply resurrected themselves. A single scream, louder than the others, echoed through her mind. _"Cody nooo!"_

Rolly ran right through the tree.

The buggy wasn't so lucky.

The four ghosts were flung from the cart and they watched in silent shock as it collided with the giant oak. Two wheels went flying off in opposite directions. Rolly's hoof beats could be heard as he ran into the distance.

Ezra, Phineas, and Gus stared at the crumpled heap of wood for a moment. They managed to get their mouths to shut.

Myrriah trembled and tears streamed down her cheeks. Unlike the others, she didn't see a hearse. Her shoulders shook with sobs as she saw in her mind's eye a sight she had witnessed hundreds of times in her nightmares.

_The small, red car was crumpled against the tree, completely totaled. Blood splattered the cracked windshield. The passenger side airbag had apparently failed to blow up on impact, but the driver's side airbag had worked just fine. Two figures encased in shadow, one in the passenger seat, the other in the back seat, lay unmoving…_

"What the bloody hell happened?!"

Ezra, Phineas, and Gus turned as Dustin and Courtney dashed into the woods. They had apparently followed the wheel's tracks and Rolly's hoof prints.

As he spotted his cart, Dustin babbled incoherently for a moment before screaming, "Bloody bloomin' bugger! My buggy!" He whipped his head around frantically. "Where's Rolly?!"

"Um, he went that-a-way," Phineas said lamely, pointing in the direction of the horrified horse's retreat.

"And how…How…Why…" Dustin babbled. He turned to Myrriah. His calm, thoughtful demeanor was gone, replaced by fury. "I leave you with the hearse for ten bloody minutes and you take it for a bloody joyride?! This," he picked up a wheel and shook it, "was an antique even before I died!"

Myrriah seemed to not hear him; she was still staring at the wreckage, mouthing wordlessly.

"Sir," Courtney interjected, "trust me on this, Myrriah is not the type of person who would do something like this on purpose. I've known her my whole life… and afterlife. It was an accident!"

"Yeah!" Gus agreed. Phineas and Ezra nodded.

"Calm down," Ezra added. "Would you look at the poor kid? She's shakin' like a Chihuahua in a blizzard." He gestured to Myrriah, who was still trembling.

The four men and Courtney started to argue loudly. Myrriah seemed to snap out of her trance. "I'm-I'm sorry," she stammered. They all stopped and looked at her. She looked back at the buggy. "I'm so sorry," she whispered with a sob. She turned and ran.

Courtney watched her best friend and debated on whether or not this was one of those "I need to be alone!" moments. She glanced at the buggy. No, Myrriah would definitely need a friend right now. Before she chased after her, she did a double take. Lying on the ground two yards or so away from the crashed cart was a camera. Courtney picked it up and examined it. It was old and hefty, with a sticker of a cartoon U.F.O. on it.

Not knowing exactly why she felt it was important, Courtney took it with her and hurried off after Myrriah.

"I suppose I was a bit harsh," Dustin shamefully admitted.

"Ya think?" snapped Phineas.

"Jerk!" yelled Gus.

"I guess I deserve that- OW!" Dustin cried out in pain as Gus slammed the metal ball down on his right foot.

* * *

Myrriah didn't stop running until she realized she had no idea where she was. She came to an abrupt halt in a small, dark room that smelled of old, scented candles. Eerie tapestries of goblins and witches dancing around bubbling cauldrons, demons, and other fantastic creatures that she had never seen before, hung on the walls. Large pillows and cushions with odd, intricate designs sewn onto them were in scattered piles on the floor. In the very center of the room was a small, round, wooden table. On it was a large, round object with a silk handkerchief draped over it. A bright, almost sickly green light emanated from it.

"My dear, sweet child," a strong voice said coaxingly. It was a feminine voice that dripped honey, and at the same time sounded as if thin, fine razors had made slices through it.

Myrriah looked around, but didn't see anyone. "Hello? Ma'am?"

"The table," the voice said simply.

Myrriah slowly walked to the table and, with a sudden, inexplicable impulse, picked up the handkerchief. She stopped herself from crying outat the sight underneath.

It was a large crystal ball.

With a woman's head floating in it.

* * *

A/N: From what I've gathered, Ezra, Phineas, and Gus are names that were created by the Mansion's cast members. However, it seems as if they've become official. They were even used in early drafts of the movie script. I'm not quite sure who should get credit for them or who has rights on the names. So, I'll just be safe and say that I didn't create the names. 


	6. A Visit with Madam Leota

"Crimany monkey fudger," Myrriah babbled. She had actually intended to say a few real curses, but her brain and her mouth didn't seem to be properly connected at the moment. The head just arched an eyebrow skeptically.

The woman, or rather her head at least, appeared to be in her late thirties or early forties. She had large, dark eyes that were the same shade of dark green as the cloudy swirls in the crystal ball. Her skin, lips, and even her black hair had been tinted green. She was very pretty in a sharp sort of way, like a beautiful crystal that will slice your hand if you try to grab it.

Myrriah looked at a pile of tarot cards on the table. "Are you some sort of fortune teller?"

The woman smiled like a viper trying to coax a rabbit towards it. "Yes, I'm a reader of minds, voice of the other realms. I can see into your future and past."

"How about the present?" Myrriah said with a grin.

"Do you have any idea who you're joking with?" asked the woman with a smug smirk.

"Oh, I know who you are!" Myrriah cried out. "Madam, um, Madam… Oh, what was it you used to say? Oh, right. 'Call me now for yah free readin'!' Madam Cleo, that's it! Man, I knew times got pretty tough for you back in the late nineties, but you shouldn't have committed suicide."

"I am not," snapped the head, "this Madam Cleo you speak of." She sniffed indignantly. "I am Madam Leota. And I know perfectly well who you are, Myrriah Harolds."

Myrriah blinked several times in astonishment. She had the sudden feeling that she didn't want to be here. "Wow, um, you know, I'm just going to leave now and, uh…"

"You were crying when you ran in here," said Leota coolly. "I know what you were crying about. And yes, it IS your fault. It was all your fault!"

Myrriah could feel the tears rushing back.

"It was all because _you_ had wanted to sneak into that high school party. But no, you couldn't go alone could you? No, you had to drag your friend along. 'You know I wouldn't have any fun without you,'" Leota mimicked in a high-pitched, nasal voice. "'Come on, it'll be fun, there'll be lots of cute high school boys there.' And then what happens? Your brother had to go fetch you."

The image in the crystal ball swirled and changed. Leota's face was then replaced by the image of a large house with multiple cars parked in the driveway and on the front lawn.

_The lights in the house were on and music blared. Drinks were poured and kids laughed and danced._

_A small, red car pulled up and parked in the road in front of the house. A young man, hardly more than eighteen jumped out and ran to the house, flung open the door, and bolted inside. The music stopped and he marched back out, dragging Myrriah and Courtney by their wrists. _

Myrriah didn't want to hear the arguing she knew was coming, but she still strained to hear the words that faintly came from the crystal ball.

"_What do you think you're doing?!" screamed Myrriah. "We were perfectly fine, Cody. You didn't have to barge in and embarrass us like that!"_

"_I know what those people are like," said Cody. "Those guys do not want to be with you because they like to talk to you, okay. There's a reason they invite little girls like you to their parties! I thought you had more sense than this, Myrriah! You think that by hanging out with older kids it makes you more mature. Well it doesn't! Now get in the car, I'm taking you home! Courtney, I already called your parents, you are in serious trouble! Myrriah, you just wait until mom and dad get back from their trip!"_

_Courtney nodded silently and slunk into the backseat of Cody's car. Myrriah grudgingly got into the passenger seat. Before Cody could so much as open his door, one boy ran out of the house._

"_Cody," he yelled, his speech slurred. "Whash your problem? They were obliviously having a goo' time." He put an arm around Cody's shoulder, swaying slightly. "Come on, I'll pour you a beer. You know, everyone loves the girls. So, lesh-let's all go back inside. 'Kay?"_

_Cody pushed him away. "Matt, dude, back off okay. It looks like you've partied a little too hard tonight. I'm taking them home." He tried to get back in the car, but Matt shoved him. _

"_You're always sush a party pooper, Cody," Matt slurred. He shoved Cody again. Cody pushed him back, knocking him to the ground. Matt jumped up and punched Cody, who quickly retaliated with a hard punch to Matt's jaw. Even after Matt fell, Cody kicked him in his ribs._

"_Stay away from my little sister!" Cody quickly got into his car and sped away._

Myrriah shut her eyes tightly, not wanting to see what happened next. Even if she closed her eyes, she could still see the memory clearly.

_After a few minutes, Cody noticed the headlights of another car speeding after his own. He cursed as Matt's truck pulled up alongside him, swerving closer and closer to him. He finally forced Cody off the road. The girls screamed as the car crashed through a guardrail and flipped once. Cody slammed his foot on the brake in vain as it careened down a small hill and drove right into a large oak tree._

_"Cody nooo!"_

"Nooo!"

"Myrriah! Myrriah snap out of it!"

Myrriah had the vague feeling she was being shaken. She opened her eyes to see Courtney standing in front of her, still shaking her shoulders.

"I've been looking everywhere for you. What were you screaming about?"

"My fault! It was my entire fault! I didn't get to tell Cody-"

"Oh." Understanding dawned on Courtney's face. She pulled her friend close and hugged her tightly. "No, no, it wasn't your fault. Quit blaming yourself."

Myrriah's sobbing ceased and she took a step back. She wiped tears away from her eyes. "I think I need to be alone for a little bit, Court."

"But-"

"I'll see you in the morning." She walked out through one of the walls.

Courtney decided not to pursue her. She sighed heavily.

"Poor child has so much guilt," said Madam Leota softly.

Courtney turned around. She hadn't even noticed the head in the crystal ball. "Oh my god. Madam Cleo what are you doing here?"

Madam Leota suppressed a scream and silently counted to ten. She sighed though clenched teeth. "I am Madam Leota, not Madam Cleo!" She regained her composure. "Your friend holds so much grief."

"I know," sighed Courtney. "I wish I do could something about it."

"You know," said Madam Leota brightly. "I think you can."

"How?"

"I can fix everything. I have the power to give you your life back. You just have to do something for me first."

"Wait, wait, wait. Time out. If you can bring us to life, why don't you do the same thing for yourself?"

"I knew you would ask that. You're such a bright girl, Courtney. You see, I was trapped in this crystal ball years ago and now my powers are so very limited. If you set me free, I will have all of my magic back. And then I can bring you and your friend back to life."

A terrible feeling nagged at Courtney. _This isn't right_, it said. But why would this Leota woman lie about something like this? _There's a reason she's locked up, you know, _the feeling continued.

"I need to think about this," said Courtney. "I'll get back to you." She walked out of the little, dark room and nearly walked right into George Gracey.

"Sorry about that," said George. "I was just checking to see if those two mortals were hiding in here. We can't find them anywhere." He glanced down at the camera Courtney was still holding in her hands. "What's that?"

"Oh, it's a camera I found out in the woods, sir." She handed it to him.

He looked it over, a look of childlike curiosity on his face. "Amazing," he breathed. "I haven't had a close look at any sort of cameras in at least fifty years." His blue eyes sparkled. "I used to love photography back when I was alive..." He stopped himself and cleared his throat. "Well, good job," he said, becoming serious once again. "That means that they definitely snuck out. Uh, do you mind if I keep this with me? You know, to keep it safe if the owner comes back to look for it?"

Courtney arched an eyebrow. "You're the Master of the Manor, sir," she reminded him.

"Right. Well, I'll lock up for the night. Get some rest for tomorrow's scares." He gave her a curt nod and then turned around and walked away. Courtney could tell he was playing with the camera's buttons.

* * *

A/N: Disney owns the character and the name Madam Leota. 


	7. A Visit from Paul

The sun soon rose over Gracey Manor, making the dewdrops on the gravestones glisten. The ancient Dutch-Gothic mansion looked breath-takingly beautiful in the morning. Somewhere, a rooster crowed. It was promptly shot at.

"Sewell, put the gun away!" yelled Master Gracey.

"Yes sir."

If the gunshot didn't rouse the ghosts from their slumbers, the bugle wake-up call did. Poor Dustin, who had spent most of the night reassembling his buggy and searching for Rolly, had fallen asleep around four-thirty in the morning. He had curled up in the back of the hearse and was snoozing quite peacefully until Phineas, Gus, and Ezra had made themselves "The Honorary Wakers of the Dead".

Phineas gently tapped on the glass windows of the coffin compartment. "Rise and shine, sleeping beauty!" Dustin just turned over and ignored him.

Next it was Gus's turn. The short spook looked over the carriage, inspecting every inch of it. Then he carefully lifted up the chain attached to his ankle, swung it like a lasso, and then slammed the metal ball against the glass. Amazingly, the glass didn't shatter, and Gus's attempt wasn't completely in vain.

Dustin bolted up. Upon realizing that the hearse wasn't further damaged, he glared at Gus and yelled, "Bugger off!" He pulled the velvet curtains in the glass compartment closed and flopped back down.

"You've got to be more creative than that, Gussie," said Ezra. "Just stand back and watch a pro, little man." He sauntered over to where Rolly was standing. The horse was back in his harnesses and had calmed down quite a bit after last night's fiasco. Ezra was going to see to it that the animal wasn't going to be very calm for much longer. He raised his right arm high in the air, and then smacked the horse's rump.

Rolly whinnied, reared up, and then took off as fast as he could through the cemetery, dragging the hearse and Dustin, who was screaming at the top of his lungs, behind him. Ezra inhaled deeply and sighed. "God, I love it here." He looked around. "I wonder what the newbies are up to."

* * *

"All right, every…body," George began his usual morning speech in the ballroom. Many, but not all, of the ghosts were present. Those who were there included Myrriah and Courtney. Surprisingly, it was Courtney who seemed to be nervous and apprehensive, rather than Myrriah who looked as if she had completely gotten over the events of last night. 

"There's no telling when a guest might materialize," continued George, his strong voice echoing throughout the grand room. "So I want all of you to look…alive." He chuckled softly at his own joke. "And remember, there will be a _swinging wake_ taking place this evening…"

"Where does he come up with that stuff?" Myrriah hissed into Courtney's ear.

Courtney just shrugged. She had spent most of the night thinking about Madam Leota's offer. Could she really bring them back to life? No one had that kind of power, right? And how exactly would she set Madam Leota free? And why was she locked up in the first place?

Her thoughts, as well as George's speech, were interrupted as the front door creaked open. "It seems our first visitor has arrived," said George. "Places, people. Emu girls," he said, pointing to Courtney and Myrriah, "I trust you can take care of the guest."

"Yes, sir," they said in unison.

"Wonderful. Now I want to see some real haunting from you two. Run along, don't dawdle now," he said as he shooed them away.

* * *

Myrriah and Courtney watched the boy in the foyer. He couldn't have been much older than twelve. He had thick, messy black hair, and large, dark eyes, which were darting about nervously. He was wearing a grubby pair of red Converse shoes, dark blue jeans, and a Rocky and Bullwinkle shirt. His glasses had very thick lenses and black frames and kept sliding down the bridge of his nose. In one pocket of his jeans he had a beautiful red rose. 

He was still glancing fearfully about the room when he called out, "Hello? Anyone here?"

"Too easy," said Courtney. "Watch this." She silently glided up behind him, licked one of her fingers, and stuck it in his ear. "Wet willy!"

"Gah!" the boy yelled. He jumped behind a small couch. "Who's there?"

"Courtney, you are a class act," Myrriah said sarcastically.

"Well it scared him, didn't it? Come on, it's a classic!"

The boy peeked out from his hiding place and watched the two young ghosts. His fear was soon replaced by curiosity and amusement.

"What are you going to do next, shove him head first into a toilet and give him a swirly?"

"Y…no," said Courtney slowly. "I was going to, you know, jump and yell 'Boo', or something."

"Excuse me," the boy interjected.

"Do you even know the first thing about properly haunting?" Myrriah demanded. "Honestly, how many people have you intentionally scared?"

"Well, there was that time at Stonehenge…"

"Excuse me," the boy said again.

"Accidentally knocking over a historical monument with a bowling ball doesn't count!" Myrriah argued. "And I think people were more P. O.ed than frightened."

"Oh, and I suppose painting that mustache on the Mona Lisa does count?" snapped Courtney.

"Hey, that curator was so scared that he nearly peed his pants."

"EXCUSE ME!"

The girls stopped arguing and turned to look at the boy, who was now sitting on the couch. For a moment he looked as if he didn't know what to do next. He cleared his throat nervously. "Uh, thank you. I just came here to get my camera back. I thought I left it outside, but I couldn't find it."

"Oh, that's your camera?" asked Courtney.

"What camera?" asked Myrriah.

"The one I found out in the woods," Courtney explained. Myrriah still looked confused. "I found a camera in the woods after the hearse accident."

"Oh."

"Can I have it back?" the boy asked. "I had some really neat photos on there that I need to develop for a school assignment."

"Sure," said Courtney. "I'll just go ask George where-"

"Wait a minute," interrupted Myrriah. "People were looking all over for you and the person who was with you last night. How did you get out without anyone knowing?"

The boy blinked a few times. "That was easy. There's a broken window in the attic. Dad and I just climbed out of it, onto a balcony, and down some steps. There was a path that leads right past the graveyard and into the woods. Dad knew about it."

"How would your father know about that?" asked Myrriah.

"He was here before, about thirty years ago. He wanted to see if the house was still the same after all those years, and I tagged along to get some ghost pics. Now, can I please get my camera back?"

"Okee-dokey," said Courtney. "I'll just-"

"Hold it," said Myrriah, grabbing her friend's shoulder before she could walk away. "You said your dad was with you right? Did he take something?"

The boy shook his head. "My dad wouldn't steal anything! What gave you that idea?"

"The ghost in the attic said that she saw him grab something."

"I didn't see him take anything," the boy answered truthfully. "I would have told him to put it back if he did."

"I think he's telling the truth," Courtney said. "Let's just go get his camera from George."

"All right," Myrriah sighed. "By the way, what's your name?"

"Paul. Paul Burton." He smiled and held out his hand for them to shake it.

"He's kind of sweet," Courtney whispered into Myrriah's ear. To Paul she said, "I'm Courtney Carlson, and this is my best bud Myrriah Harolds."

"Nice to meet you," said Paul. He and Courtney were still shaking hands long after Myrriah had let go.

Courtney, Myrriah, and Paul approached the door to George's office. They couldn't knock, however, because a ghostly knight and a burly executioner were standing guard just outside. The skinny knight was holding his decapitated head in one hand and a sword in the other. His partner was wearing the standard executioner's mask and gripped a large axe, the end of which was resting on his shoulder.

Paul gulped nervously. "Uh, h-hi."

"We're here to see Master Gracey," said Courtney, as if she was speaking to a receptionist at a dentist's office.

The knight and the executioner looked at each other for a moment and then turned back to the kids. In a snooty, high-pitched voice, the knight said, "Ain't nobody gonna see the master, not no way, not no how."

"Oh, good Lord," groaned Myrriah.

It was at that moment that George poked his head, literally, through the door. "What are you two doing here?" he demanded, glaring at the knight and the executioner.

"Keeping watch over your door, good sir," said the knight.

George sighed. "How many times do I have to tell you I don't need any body guards? I don't have a body to guard! Go… somewhere else."

"And do what?" asked the executioner.

"Um… Go make sure Ezra isn't chucking rotten eggs down the organ pipes again. And if he's not doing that, make sure he's not making any crank calls to that video store." After he watched them walk away, he turned to Courtney, Myrriah, and Paul. "What can I do for you?"

"I don't mean to bother you, sir," said Paul, "I just came back to get my camera."

"Oh, it's yours, is it?"

"Yes, sir."

George disappeared into his office for a moment and walked back with the camera. "Before I give this back, I want to know, how did you manage to sneak out of the house?"

"Attic window."

George's face went blank for a moment as it dawned on him. "D'oh!" he muttered. "Should have thought of that." He reluctantly handed the camera to Paul. "That is a wonderful little gizmo you got there. Take good care of it."

"Thank you, sir." Paul inspected the camera. He furrowed his brow and exclaimed, "Hey, I had eighteen pictures left on this; now there's only four!"

George's eyes darted about as if he was trying very hard not to look suspicious. "What do you know? Stranger things have happened. Heh. Run along now." He was about to walk back into his office, but suddenly stopped and stared at Paul. "You look familiar. Not you specifically, but some of your features." He thought this over for a few seconds and then snapped his fingers. "Mike! Mike and Karen! That's who you look like!"

"You know my parents?" asked Paul in bewilderment.

"Yes, I gave them the grand tour of the house years ago. They were only teenagers then." He smiled wistfully. "They were out on a date, it started to storm, and they ran in here for shelter. I scared the bejeezus out of them." He sighed. "Good times." He cleared his throat. "Well, I'm expected at a party in just a few minutes, so I really have to get going. Tell your folks I said 'hello'." With that he vanished.

"I guess I should be leaving too," said Paul. "Thanks for getting my camera back."

"No prob," said Courtney. "By the way, what was the rose for?"

Paul's ears turned red. "Well, I felt bad about taking the picture of the ghost in the attic because it made her so upset. I was going to give her this rose, but she probably wouldn't even let me talk to her. Plus, I don't thinka diva like her would really appreciate a gift like this." He took the rose out of his pocket. "Uh, you can have it, Courtney, if you want it." He held the flower out to her. "I mean, I understand if you don't. Why would a ghost want a dumb rose, anyway? But I don't want it to just die, so…"

Courtney snatched it from his hand. "Thank you, Paul!" She gave him a quick hug. "That's so sweet of you! I'll find a vase to put this in as soon as I can."

"You people are giving me diabetes," Myrriah groaned.

They acted as if they had not heard her. They stared at each other a moment longer before Paul finally said, "Good bye. I'll try to come back later."

"Buh-bye," murmured Courtney as she watched him walk out of the mansion. She sighed.

"Twitterpated," Myrriah muttered. "Absolutely Twitterpated."

* * *

Hello! Before I get to the author's notes, I wanted to answer a question that was in one of my reviews. 

Azure Autumn writes: Have you actually looked up stuff on the ghost gallery website? is that how you found out about Emily? After I get one of my other stories finished up, I'm gonna start doing my HM fanfics again. This is so accurate! I love it!

Thank you for the compliments, Azure! And yes, that's how I found out about that particular Emily story. There's another one where her groom (usually Gracey) finds her talking to another man in the attic. Not knowing the man is from the bridal shop, he cuts off his head, and then tosses Emily out the window, which is why the window is now broken. This particular story goes along with a character called the Hatbox Ghost. The special effects for this poor ghoul never quite worked, so Imagineers had to remove him from the ride shortly after it opened. (In some stories, the Hatbox Ghost is her groom.)

Let me know when you start writing your HM stories, I can't wait to read them!

A/N: Sewell is the name on one of the tombstones in front of the mansion. He will also be a character that pops up later on who is based on one of the dueling men in the ballroom portraits. Paul Burton is a name created from Paul Frees and Corey Burton, two of my favorite voice actors. Paul provided the original voice for the Ghost Host as well as the voice for Boris Badenov on _The Rocky and Bullwinkle Show._ (Hence, the shirt) Corey Burton was the voice for the Ghost Host in the Haunted Mansion Holiday overlay (and he did a spectacular job, too!).

The Mike and Karen mentioning is a direct reference to the record "The Story and Song From the Haunted Mansion."

And the term "Twitterpated" is from _Bambi._ :p


	8. To the Book Depository!

Courtney was still staring at the door, a wistful, dreamy look on her face.

"Earth to Court," said Myrriah, waving a hand in front of Courtney's face.

"Wha'?" Courtney mumbled, snapping out of her daze.

"What do you mean, 'wha'?' You got it bad for him." Myrriah grinned and playfully nudged Courtney.

"I do not." Courtney fidgeted with the edges of the rose petals. "Okay, well, he's kind of cute, I'll admit that. I've always had a thing for geeky guys."

"Can't get much geekier," said Myrriah. She smiled. But Courtney noticed it was a weak, sad smile that clearly said, "If we weren't dead…" and then could be followed by a number of phrases like, "You could ask that guy out." She smiled like that quite often.

"Well," she continued after she felt that the growing silence was becoming awkward, "where to?"

Courtney thought about it for a moment. "I want to explore the place for a little bit. I'm sure there's plenty of rooms we haven't seen yet."

"Sounds cool. Where do we start?"

"I was thinking that we could," Courtney faltered for a moment, "uh, split up and search the house that way. I'll check this side of the house." She pointed to her right. "You take that side." She pointed to her left. "We'll meet back here in about, say, two hours."

"I'll see you then."

* * *

After putting her rose in a vase in the conservatory, Courtney ran to Madam Leota's room. It was nearly pitch black, save for the green light coming from the crystal ball. She happened to wander in right in the middle of a séance. A tambourine, a horn, a harp, a drum, and for some reason a stool, were floating near the ceiling.

"Harpies and ghoulies, old friends and new, blow on a horn, so we know that it's you!" Madam Leota was answered with a quick toot from the horn. "Horn toads and spiders, Piddle and Strum, please answer the roll by beating the drum!"

"Excuse me," said Courtney as something tapped the drum above her head. "Madam Cleo?"

Madam Leota exhaled sharply through clenched teeth. "It's Madam Leota! Le-o-ta! Not Cleo!" She cleared her throat, and then said sweetly, "What can I do for you, child? I sense a lot of turmoil in your aura, dear."

"Well, I've been thinking about what you said, and I'd like to help you. But only if you really can bring me and Myrriah back to life."

"Of course I can. I just have to be released from this accursed prison first. In order to do that, you have to read a spell for me. It's written in a title less book that's in the library. Get that and come back here."

"That's it?" She started to walk out.

"I almost forgot. When you find it, you must say the magic incantation. Cla-tu, vera-tu, nik-to." As Courtney turned to walk away, Madam Leota started laughing. "I'm just joking about the incantation thing, kid."

Courtney stared at her blankly.

"Just-just get the stupid book."

* * *

Courtney had been wandering around for nearly fifteen minutes, searching for the library. She opened a random door in the hallway. "Is this the library?" A shrill, earsplitting scream was her only response. "Guess not."

She walked back into the conservatory and plopped down on a large box covered in flowers. "How can a library be so hard to find?"

"Yer lookin' for the book depository, kid?" asked a muffled, raspy voice.

"Who said that?"

"I did. In the coffin."

Courtney jumped up and looked at the long box for a moment. "Oh, I didn't even realize that was a casket. Hello, and yeah, I'm looking for the library. Where is it?"

"Hmm," said the voice thoughtfully. "You know, I haven't been to the library in a loooong time." The coffin lid creaked open a couple of inches and two bony hands snaked out and grasped the lid. They pushed up slightly, but couldn't force the lid up any further. "Dagnabit! These dern nails! Back in my day we had proper coffins, coffins that would open easily if a corpse needed to get out. I had suggested that they put an easy-open lid on my coffin, just in case I was buried alive, but nooo! 'We'll know when you're good and dead,' they said. Well they didn't! And now I'm stuck like this!"

"I'm very sorry for you, sir," said Courtney. "But I really need to know where the library is."

"Oh, right, the library. You know, I haven't been to the library in a looooong time. Back in my day, libraries used to be called Readin' Rooms. But sometimes we called them Book Buildings. Now, me and my friends used to go to the Readin' Room every day after school, but we wouldn't read because back then you had to pay a penny to read a book, and a penny was hard to come by. But pennies weren't called pennies back then, they were called grainbacks because they had a picture of grain on one side. So, we would have to pay a grainback if we wanted to read a book. What was I talking about? Oh, yeah, after school me and my friends would go to the library. But we called it the Readin' Room…"

Courtney turned around and walked away.

* * *

Meanwhile, Myrriah was exploring a hallway. She peered at the purple wallpaper that had leering goblin like faces that seemed to stare back at her. She continued on, passing rooms containing creatures that pounded furiously on the doors and twisted the handles and snarled ferociously.

Myrriah stopped in front of a door that seemed to be breathing. It was bulging out as if it was about to burst at any second. She watched it curiously for a moment. Then she picked up the bronze doorknocker and lightly knocked.

The door stopped moving and a throaty voice asked cautiously, "Who's there?"

"Boo."

"Boo who?"

"I know you're stuck in there, but you don't have to cry about it." She walked away.

"Everybody's a comedian," the voice grumbled.

* * *

"If this isn't it," said Courtney as she walked through a set of huge doors, "I'm just going to-" She stopped. She had found it. She whistled. "That is a lot of books."

The library was an enormous room. Three of its walls were covered with towering bookshelves crammed full of books of all shapes and sizes. Several stern looking busts were perched on the shelves, peering down at Courtney with snooty contempt. As she walked further into the room, the busts turned and watched her, glaring at her as if they expected her to steal something.

A couple of dust coated rocking chairs rocked back and forth slowly. A lamp gave off very little light, but just enough to read the titles on the spines of the books. A ladder moved across the shelves as whoever was on it shuffled books about.

"All right," said Courtney with determination. "I've got to find a book with no title." She looked over the hundreds of tomes. "Right, shouldn't be too difficult."

* * *

A/N: The "Cla-tu, vera-tu, nik-to" bit is my homage to one of my favorite movies _Army of Darkness_. The guy in the coffin is another homage, this time to Grandpa Simpson. The chapter title is a line from a Simpsons Treehouse of Horror episode. 


	9. Meeting Milton

Myrriah walked into the cold, damp, dark crypt. She could hear water dripping and rats scurrying about, and somewhere outside, a raven cawed. It smelled a bit mildewed, but she had certainly been in worse.

_Hmm, _she mused as she looked about, _I found the doublewide trailer of the ghost world. _

Along one of the stone walls were five torches, each held by what looked like thin, bony human hands. _Who designed this place? Cocteau?_ Between each torch was a large, round, dust-coated mirror, deeply in need of some cleaning. _There are some very vain dead people around here._

She was just going to walk right by the mirrors, but stopped. After glancing about to make sure no one was watching her, she glided up to one mirror and stared at her reflection. It was odd; she had not actually seen what she looked like since… the accident. She had almost forgotten her features. She had slender build. Her glasses made her green eyes look larger than they actually were, and her long, messy bangs kept falling over her lenses. Her blond hair was pulled back into a ponytail.

The "bookworm look", as Courtney called it, suited her. Courtney had been the more outgoing, early bloomer of the duo, and had often teased, (not mean spiritedly), "bookish, plain-Jane Myrriah". Although she would never admit it, she had resented those remarks. _Was that the real reason I snuck out to the party? Was I trying to prove something? _Normally, she would have never gone along with such a dumb scheme.

Her thoughts were interrupted as her reflection in the mirror began to blur and change shape. She stared at it dumbfounded until it settled and took a definite form. Gus stared back at her, grinning from ear to ear.

"Gus, you little freak!" she yelled. She laughed as he made goofy faces at her.

He puckered his lips and blew a kiss to her, and then he cackled. Ezra and Phineas appeared in the mirrors on either side of him.

"What's happening, newbie?" asked Ezra.

"Yeah," added Phineas, "how are you holding up, kid?"

"I guess I'm doing okay, all things considered," she answered. She pointed with her thumb behind her. "Is this your place?"

"Ah, the swinging spinsters pad?" asked Ezra with a grin. "Yeah it's ours."

Phineas cast a glance around the crypt. "Could use a little disinfectant here and there." He brightened. "Hey, we're heading to the parlor for a game of poker with Sewell, Huet, and Little Leota. You want to join us? You can bring your friend along too."

"No thanks, maybe another time," said Myrriah. She blinked. "Wait, did you say 'Little Leota'?"

Phineas nodded. "Madam Leota's daughter. Half her height and two times as mischievous."

Ezra scowled. "That punk kid got my pocket watch the last time we played. I stole that watch from Sewell fair and square, I want it back!"

Phineas rolled his eyes. "We better get going. Catch ya later, kid." They vanished.

Myrriah smiled as she realized she had made some new friends. Maybe life, or rather _afterlife_, wasn't so bad.

* * *

"No, no, no." Courtney read over the spines of the books. "These all have titles!"

"Can a help you?" asked a male, nasal voice from somewhere to her right. She looked in the direction the voice had come from, but could only see the ladder. "Is there anything in particular you're searching for, or are you just browsing?"

"Uh…" Courtney couldn't decide whether or not she should say what she needed. She had the vague feeling that she should lie about it. "I'm just browsing."

"Are you new around here?" asked the nasal voice. The poor guy sounded like he had a bad cold.

"Yeah. I'm Courtney."

"Hello, I'm Milton Dewey, Gracey Manor's librarian. Do you like to read a lot?" He sounded pitiful, almost hopeful.

"Yeah, I guess so." She was distracted as she continued inspecting the shelves.

"Well we have plenty of volumes here for your reading enjoyment. The library is home to some of the greatest ghost stories the literary world has ever known, and we have quite the collection of first editions, in excellent condition of course."

A small, red book caught her attention. It had fallen off of the shelf and was lying in a dark patch of shadows in the corner. It was too far away for her to see it clearly, but the cover appeared to be blank. _That's it! _

"Is there anything I can interest you in?" continued Milton. "A little Shakespeare?" He pulled a hefty tome off the shelf.

"No, thank you." She was inching her way to the little book.

"Dickinson?"

She stopped in case the invisible spirit had turned to look at her. "Nah."

"Huh." He seemed to turn his attention back to the shelf. "You know, I love Emily Dickinson's work."

"Really?" asked Courtney nonchalantly as she walked to the corner.

"Yeah. Her poems weren't that well known when she was alive."

She picked up the red book. "Ain't that a shame?" she muttered distractedly.

"It really is. She thought her poetry wouldn't amount to much."

"That's fascinating," mumbled Courtney as she snuck out.

"Poor girl, all alone, nobody really paid a lot of attention to her. Oh, I can relate! I'm so lonely in here all day, and hardly anyone visits and- Hey, where'd you go?"

* * *

Myrriah was walking past the music room next to the library just as Courtney dashed out. "Hey, Court! What have you been up to?"

"Oh, nothing much," replied Courtney hastily.

"What do you have there?" Myrriah asked, pointing to the book.

"Oh this? It's-it's nothing, really." She put the book on the head of a large griffin shaped banister. "So, what did you do?"

"Toured the hallway and some crypts, and chatted with the three stooges for a bit. You?"

"I was just checking out the library, seeing if it would be a fun place to haunt." She smiled nervously. "It's not. There's a really whiny guy in there. Dilton-something. Anyway, do you want to keep touring the house by yourself?"

"No, I think I've seen everything worth seeing." Myrriah turned her attention to an old piano in the music room. It had been placed in front of a large window. A tiny patch of sunlight that had fought its way through the thick, gray clouds streamed into the room, giving it a pathetic amount of light. Most of the sheet music placed on the piano had fallen onto the floor. A dim shadow of a man could be seen on the floor as the ghost casting it sat on the bench.

The girls stared down at his shadow as he cracked his knuckles loudly, and then gently placed his fingers on the ivory keys. Courtney listened for a moment. "Chop sticks? You hack!" She walked over to the bench and plopped down. "Scoot over and let a pro show you how it's done." She began playing.

"Mary had a Little Lamb? Courtney, you can do better than that!" cried Myrriah.

The invisible ghost performed the first part of the theme from _Deliverance. _Courtney continued it. The other ghost played the next part. Courtney joined in and played the next part faster. Then the other ghost hit the keys quicker than her. Soon they were dueling, each spirit trying to play their side of the piano faster than the other.

Both spooks seemed exhausted as they neared the end of the song. "I'm not giving up 'till after you do!" snarled Courtney. The shadow played for a moment longer, stopped, and slammed his head down on the keys. Courtney finished the song with a triumphant, dramatic flourish. "Ha! Who's the piano man now, huh?"

The shadow slunk away, utterly defeated. Myrriah clapped slowly.

"Thank you! Thank you!" Courtney bowed. "And you thought those five years of piano lessons were pointless."

"I didn't think that. _You _said that."

"Oh. Nevermind what I said. The point is I totally whooped him."

"Yes," said Myrriah dryly. "You totally beat a poor, bodiless spirit whose only joy was playing the piano."

Courtney glared at her. "I hate you sometimes. You just take the fun out of everything, you know that?"

Myrriah grinned. "I'm just teasing. You did great. Want to go back to the foyer and see if any more guests have shown up?"

Courtney glanced at the book. "Sure. You go ahead. I need to take that back to the library."

Myrriah smiled and walked away. Courtney picked up the little book and gently placed it on the keys. _I'll get back to this later. _She pulled the cover down and shut it silently. _By the end of the day, we'll be alive again!_

* * *

A/N: I created the character Milton Dewey. If you would like to find out more about him, you can check out my other fanfic, Milton Dewey: Geek, Librarian, Ghost. 


	10. Bad News

Courtney and Myrriah stepped into the foyer just as they heard a door softly slide shut. They looked about, searching for the source of the noise.

"Aha," Myrriah murmured.

"What?" asked Courtney.

Myrriah grabbed the top of her friend's head and turned it so that she was looking at the wall to the left of the foyer's grand fireplace. A small, vertical sliver of light could be seen. It stretched from the edge of the ceiling, down to the carpet. "A hidden door," Myrriah said simply.

Courtney nodded. As Myrriah walked toward it, a look of confusion washed over Courtney's face. "So…?" she asked slowly.

"So, that means someone's here. And that means it's scarin' time."

"Oh, right." She sheepishly followed Myrriah to the wall and they stepped through. They entered a small, octagonal shaped room. Perched along the walls were gargoyle sconces, clutching dusty candles in their clawed hands. Along the walls were four portraits. The first depicted a lovely young woman holding a pink parasol. To the right of it, was a painting of an older woman with her hair up in a loose bun, clutching a rose. The next showed a man with a smug appearance wearing a derby and a suit with his hands crossed over his chest. The last portrait was of a serious, dignified man wearing a black suit and a sash.

"Look," Courtney hissed into Myrriah's ear.

With his back to them, oblivious to the ghosts, was Paul. He was staring up at the paintings with awe. On a strap around his neck was his old camera. He lifted it up and snapped a picture of each portrait.

"No flash pictures, please," said Master Gracey's voice. The ghost was nowhere to be seen. "We don't want to repeat what happened last time, do we?"

Paul jumped, shocked to hear George's voice. "S-sorry. There's something I need to tell you-"

Master Gracey, too caught up in his spiel to hear Paul, continued. "Welcome to the gallery, where you see paintings of some of our guests." As he spoke, the walls seemed to be stretching upward. Even the paintings elongated with the room, quickly turning from quaint to creepy. The woman with the parasol was actually standing on a tightrope that was right above the open jaws of a crocodile. The sweet old lady was sitting on a gravestone that had a bust of a man at the base of it with an axe thrust into it. The haughty man was sitting on the shoulders of a worried looking man, who was sitting on the shoulders of a terrified looking man who was waist deep in quicksand. The gentleman with the serious expression was standing in his boxers on top of a lit keg of dynamite.

"I get the other ones," said Paul. "But why is that dude in his underwear? What was he doing with dynamite while in his briefs?"

Courtney had to suppress giggles. The two young spirits had remained silent so as not to disrupt the mood that Master Gracey was trying to set up.

The ghost host chose to ignore the questions, although whether it was to just get on with his commentary or because that particular story was not something he cared to discuss, was unknown. "As you can see, there are no windows and no doors."

"Um, but I just came in through a door," Paul mumbled.

"Well, it's gone now, isn't it?" George snapped. "Now," his voice grew more ominous, "I offer you this chilling challenge: To find a way out."

"You know, if I just nudged that panel again, that might open it," Paul said lamely. He pointed back to the hidden door with his thumb.

Master Gracey sighed. "Of course," he said, most of his enthusiasm gone, "there's always my way." Suddenly, the room became pitch black. Lightning flashed and thunder crashed as Master Gracey's dramatic laugh echoed throughout the gallery.

"Um, okay…"

"Look up, you dolt!"

Paul did as he was told. The ceiling seemed to have vanished, replaced by nearly rotted rafters. Swaying gently, like a clock's pendulum, was a skeleton in a tattered tuxedo. Paul peered up at the cadaver. He studied it for nearly a minute before he said, "You were short."

The room became lit once again and the ceiling was back. Master Gracey materialized in front of Paul, rubbing his temples. "I poured my very soul into that performance and all I get is, 'you were short'!" He let his hands fall by his sides and his shoulders slumped in defeat. He suddenly looked like a kicked puppy, his eyes wide and nearly watering and his lower lip quivering.

"Oh," said Paul, feeling guilty. "It was great! Really, I'm too…scared to…uh, even scream in terror. Yeah. Aah! See? I'm scared. My brain just had to catch up with the rest of me because I'm so horrified."

George didn't look as if he believed him, but he smiled and said, "I aim to please." His expression soon turned to curiosity and amusement as he glanced over Paul's shoulder. "It looks like we've got company."

Paul turned around… and screamed at the top of his lungs! Myrriah and Courtney were still behind him, but they were now juggling their heads and Myrriah's left foot back and forth. Courtney put her head back on and tossed her friend's body parts back in her general direction.

"Hi, Paul," she said as she glided over to him.

Behind her, Myrriah was fumbling for her appendages. Her sneaker landed on her shoulders where her cranium should have, and her head tumbled into some corner of the room. "Little help?"

"I was wondering when you would come back," said Courtney with a smile. "I put the rose you gave me into a vase so it would last longer."

Paul grinned shyly. "Cool, I thought you thought that the flower was stupid and that I was a big dork." He suddenly looked nervous. "You don't do you?"

"No way. I really like the rose and I really like-"

"Hey," cried Myrriah, who still had her shoe in place of her head "guess who I am!" In a silly voice she said, "I'm crazy shoe head! My head ain't normal! It's a damn shoe! Isn't that bizarre? Now give me some candy! And I don't mean the gum on the sole!"

Courtney glared at her.

"What?" asked Myrriah, the tongue of the shoe flapping.

Grumbling under her breath, Courtney snatched off the sneaker, picked Myrriah's head up off the floor, and jammed it back onto her shoulders. "There. That better, Adam Sandler?"

Myrriah reattached her foot. "Nobody appreciates a good SNL /Sandler bit anymore."

"I think," George whispered to Myrriah with a knowing smile, "that your joking wasn't appreciated for a far different reason." He winked. "So," he said loud enough for everyone to hear, "were you trying to tell me something earlier, Paul?"

Paul and Courtney, who seemed to be unable to decide whether they should be looking at each other or looking at the floor, turned their attention to him. Paul's eyes were filled with anxiety behind his thick lenses. "I've got some really bad news," he began slowly, as if unsure how to phrase what he wanted to say. "My dad owns the mansion."

* * *

A/N: Parts of what George says, like the "No windows and no doors" bit, is from the ride. And "crazy shoe head" was inspired by the "low cost Halloween costume ideas" skits Adam Sandler used to do on Saturday Night Live. 


	11. Even Worse News

There was about thirty seconds of stunned silence before George demanded, "What do you mean your 'dad owns the mansion'?"

"Exactly that," said Paul. "He owns it, the house, the graveyard, everything. I don't know how, but he does. At least that's what he says."

Master Gracey somehow managed to look paler than he already was. "When," he began, his voice weak with worry, "did you hear this?"

"Just about an hour and a half ago. I rushed over as soon as I could."

"What," George's strong voice cracked and he cleared his throat, "what does he plan to do with it?"

Paul stared down at the floor. "I don't know."

Courtney, always the optimistic one, said, "You said he visited the mansion before, right? And he came back. So, maybe, he really likes Gracey Manor and he made some kind of deal with the Mayor so that he can make repairs and give it a new paint job."

Master Gracey looked up at the portraits and sighed. "Perhaps," he muttered quietly. He cleared his throat and tried to regain his aristocratic demeanor. After straightening his tuxedo jacket, he declared, "I'm going to retire to my office for the afternoon. Keep up the scares, emu girls. Shutterbug boy, let me know if there's any updates." He walked out through one wall.

Myrriah leaned in close to Courtney's ear and whispered, "Do you really believe what you said?"

Courtney shook her head. "No, I've got a bad feeling about the whole thing."

Myrriah bit her lower lip, but didn't say anything.

"Uh, guys," Paul said timidly. He was looking around frantically. "How do I get out of here?"

* * *

Any worries Courtney had seemed to vanish as she and Paul danced. Mr. Baker was still playing the same old dirge on the organ. Several other ghostly couples were waltzing around them, giving curious looks. _Kids, _they thought, _certainly danced oddly these days. _

"Can't he play something less depressing?" asked Paul.

Courtney laughed. "Trust me, I tried that already. Not a good idea. I tried to play _Bohemian Rhapsody _and these little ghosts in the pipes went ballistic."

"You know how to play _Bohemian Rhapsody_? I love that song!" At once they started singing it, a little too off key and loud for the dancing spirits, who groaned and shot them disgusted looks. They laughed.

"How did you die?" asked Paul after he managed to stop laughing.

Courtney tried to smile, but couldn't. "We were in a really bad car accident."

"Both of you?" asked Paul. He turned to look at Myrriah who was sitting at the long dining table chatting with Victoria. "What happened?"

"We snuck out to this party, and her brother Cody found out and got us. But this one boy was really drunk and he chased after us and drove her brother's car off the road. Cody and the other guy were fine, but we, well, you know."

"I'm sorry," said Paul. "About how long ago did it happen?"

Courtney thought about it for a moment. "I'd say 'bout six months. I remember the paramedics putting our bodies into the ambulance. My parents were there. I've never seen them look so sad. I said good-bye to them, but I don't know if they heard me. Myrriah's parents were out on some weekend trip, so she didn't even get to tell them she loved them or give them a final good-bye. She didn't want to go to her house when they got back. She couldn't face them. She blames herself for what happened."

"Why?"

"Because it had been her idea to go to the party, which was weird. She never did anything like that before. Myrriah was the shy, goody two shoes. I was the outgoing, party girl." She seemed as if she was about to cry. "I teased her a lot about that. I think she wanted to prove to me that she wasn't some quiet, little bookworm." She sniffed and wiped away the tears. "I guess it was all my fault, then."

Paul was silent, trying to think of something nice to say to make Courtney feel better. "It wasn't your fault, or her fault. If anything, it was that drunken guy's fault. If he hadn't run your car off the road…"

She looked as if she was about to argue with him, but instead gave him a quick hug. "You're a sweet guy, Paul."

He smiled and shrugged one shoulder. "Yeah, I know."

Courtney laughed, not so much at Paul, but out of the relief of getting the guilt off her chest, and kept dancing.

* * *

The three kids walked out of the mansion, and onto the front porch. "Maybe you're right, Courtney," said Paul. "I can't imagine my dad actually doing something really terrible to this old place. After all, he knows that it's a home for so many ghosts. I don't think he could ever be that heartless." 

"Think again," said Myrriah darkly, pointing to a large sign on the front lawn. In big, bold letters it read:

**Coming soon! The Liberty Square Mega Mall! Over a hundred stores and outlets, and the largest Food Court in the country!**


	12. George's Plan

"How are we going to break this to Master Gracey?" Myrriah whispered. "What are we going to do? Where are we going to go? We finally fit in someplace, and it's going to be destroyed!" She sighed. "And everyone else… Master Gracey, Emily, Victoria, Ezra, Phineas, Gus, Dustin, and all the others, this is their home!"

Courtney grabbed her shoulders and looked into her eyes. "Calm down, okay. The worst thing we can do is lose it. Now," she let go of her, "we need to tell Master Gracey. Maybe he can come up with a plan. And you," she turned to Paul, "please, try to make your dad reconsider this."

"I don't even know how he was able to do this," cried Paul. Courtney glared at him. "But, I'll try." He tried to give her a reassuring smile as he hopped onto his bike, which was leaning against the porch.

"The first thing we need to do is tell G.G., right?" asked Myrriah.

"Yeah, before the others find out."

"Wow, I didn't even think of what a mass panic that would be."

Just then the clomping of horse's hooves echoed in the side yard, signaling the approach of-

"Dustin," Myrriah muttered.

"Driver," snapped a snooty voice, "go a little faster. I'm bored. Wait slow down! Are you trying to make me sick?"

"And Emily," Courtney added. "The last thing we need is that little drama queen screaming at us." The hoof beats grew louder. "Quick! Hide the sign!" The two friends jumped in front of it.

Myrriah looked down at her transparent stomach and could see the notice through it. "I fail to see the genius behind your plan."

"Just shut up and act natural."

"Isn't that an oxymoron?"

"Shh!"

Both girls wore the biggest grins they could muster as the buggy crept around the corner of the house and into the front yard. Rolly the horse was, as usual, invisible. Behind him was the hearse with Dustin and Emily sitting on the driver's bench. Poor Dustin had the look of a man who wanted to commit suicide, but couldn't.

"That was the most dull tour I've ever been on!" said Emily. "How could George ever hire you as a driver?"

"For you're information, I was taking Rolly for a walk to calm his nerves, I wasn't taking you on a tour! And I didn't invite you along! Not every carriage that pulls up to the house is for you, you-you spoiled, thespian wannabe!" He immediately clamped his mouth shut and slapped his hand over it. His eyes grew wide behind his rectangular spectacles.

"You just wait until I tell George how you treated me!" she shouted as she stepped down from the buggy. "Everyone knows I'm the star here! Do you ever hear children whisper stories about the dead coachman? No, they usually tell stories about me, the poor, lonely bride!" She stamped one high heel clad foot and stormed into the house.

"Oh dear," muttered Dustin. "Me and my big mouth."

"Don't worry about her," said Myrriah, leaving her post in front of the sign. She patted Rolly's head. "With that ego of hers it was bound to happen sooner or later."

"But she is right though. She's got to be the most popular ghost haunting the Manor."

Myrriah scowled. "That doesn't give her any right to be so mean." She noticed that parts of the buggy seemed to be held together by large strips of duct tape. "I'm really sorry about wrecking it last night."

"Don't worry about it," said Dustin. "I'm the one who should be apologizing. I overreacted and I'm sorry." He looked at the sign curiously. Courtney was floating in the air, on her back in front of the letters, causing them to look distorted. "What's that?" he asked.

"Nothing," said Myrriah nervously. "Just my friend… hovering in front of a sign… for no reason."

Dustin arched an eyebrow skeptically and hopped down from the hearse. He approached the sign and had to peer through Courtney, who obstinately refused to move. "What's all this then? Liberty Square Mega Mall? What the bloody hell is that!"

"It's what's going to happen to Gracey Manor," Myrriah explained sadly. Courtney floated down and stood beside her.

"And furthermore," screamed Emily as she stomped out of the front doors. Apparently she had come up with more insults for Dustin. "You have a funny accent, and…" She trailed off when she noticed that no one was paying any attention to her. They were all standing in front of a board of some sort with very serious expressions. "Why aren't you listening to me?" She marched over to them. "What's so great about this stupid sign?" She glared at it. Her jaw dropped. "Oh."

* * *

"George! GEORGE!" screamed Emily as she raced down the hall and into his office. She ran right in, without even bothering to knock on the door. She finally stopped in front of his desk. "I have very important news… What are you doing?"

He was holding a black, boxlike object with an antenna in one hand and a screwdriver in the other. "Oh, um, a guest left this behind today and I just wanted to see how it worked and- Didn't I tell you to always knock?"

"I've got urgent news!" She took in a deep, useless breath and swallowed loudly, as if to hold back a sob. "The mansion-"

"Is gonna be demolished!" yelled Courtney as she Myrriah, and Dustin rushed into the room.

"I had this under control, thank you very much," snapped Emily.

"What?" cried George, dropping his gadget and the tool. "Where did you hear this?"

"There is a notice in the front yard, sir," said Dustin. "It's going to be replaced by a…" He furrowed his brow. "What was it called again?"

"A shopping mall," said Myrriah.

"It could be worse," said Courtney.

"How?" demanded Myrriah.

"They could be making it into an overpriced tourist attraction."

"Well, sir, what do we do?" asked Dustin. "Should we warn the others?"

"Not yet. There's no need to put everyone into a hysterical panic. I need to think about this." He pulled out his pocket watch and glanced at it. "It's past six already. Let me sleep on it, and I'll call a meeting tomorrow morning. Until then, don't tell anyone. Understood?"

The others nodded and grumbled agreement.

"Very good, well, out of my office. Shoo." He slammed the door behind them.

"I guess we just keep quiet about this for now," said Dustin.

"Well, I'm off to get some beauty sleep," said Emily, making her way to the attic.

"Yes, well, Lord knows you need it," Dustin murmured.

"I heard that, Dustbin!"

Dustin cleared his throat sheepishly. "I've got to lead Rolly back to the cemetery before something makes him run away. Have a pleasant evening, ladies." He smiled and tipped his top hat to them and walked away.

"Chances are, with that sign up, not too many people are going to be stopping by anymore," said Myrriah. She sighed sadly. "I wish we could do something."

"Me too," agreed Courtney.

* * *

Later that evening, after Myrriah said she was going to bed, Courtney snuck back into the music room. She lifted up the key cover on the piano and took out the red book.

_Maybe Leota could bring us back to life now so we don't have to worry about this whole mess. _She groaned softly. _No, that would be selfish. And Myrriah wouldn't go along with it. She wouldn't agree to do anything until she knows the mansion is going to be okay. Darn her ethics. _She put the book back, and slowly shut the cover. _Tomorrow._ She smiled to herself. _Tomorrow we'll live again! _


	13. The Meeting

Master Gracey paced around his office, glanced down at his pocket watch, and watched the sun rise. He stuck his head out the door. "Prudence!" He glanced down at his watch again and frowned. "PRUDENCE!"

"Yes sir, coming sir, right away, sir." The voice was feminine, and dripping with cynicism. Prudence was invisible, as she usually was. The only proof she was there was the candelabra she clutched. This was quite an eerie effect when she walked down dark corridors. The candles stopped in front of George's office door. "What is it you need, sir? You know I only linger on this earth to serve you, sir."

Master Gracey opened the door and stared at the space where he surmised Prudence was standing. "Do I detect a hint of sarcasm?"

"No, I would never _dream _of being sarcastic towards you, sir."

He blinked. "Oh, good. Well, I'm giving you five minutes to tell as many spirits as you can to gather in the conservatory."

"Only five minutes?"

"Yes, so don't dawdle."

"Yes, sir." She turned around and trudged away. "An eternity of being a maid. Why couldn't I have just gone to hell?"

* * *

In the game room, sitting around a card table, were Ezra, Phineas, Gus, Little Leota, Sewell, and Huet. They had been playing poker since yesterday morning, but Ezra refused to stop until he beat Little Leota at least once. The tiny girl's feet swung nearly a foot away from the floor and she had to make herself float several inches above her seat just to see over the top of the card table. 

But she was kicking butt.

Phineas's carpetbag was to her left, Gus's ball and chain to her right, and a pile of old coins and a watch was in front of her. To Ezra's agony, she was wearing his derby. She yawned loudly and flipped her long, black hair over her shoulder.

"You know, it's almost boring, winning every game." She shuffled her cards about. "Oh, what do you know? Full house." She slammed down her hand.

Everyone else put down their cards and grumbled in defeat.

"C'mon, gimme, gimme!"

Sewell searched for his wallet; Huet pushed a pocket watch with a bullet hole through the center of it to her; Gus searched through his pockets and handed her the wallet he had stolen from Sewell; Phineas took off his top hat, which he had several dollars hidden underneath of, and handed her some of the moldy, old cash.

She looked at Ezra with a smug smile. "Aw, what's a matter , Dobbins?" she asked in a voice soaked with fake sweetness. "Don't have anything else to bet?"

He scowled and took off his bow tie and flung it at her. "One more game!"

They sat there in silence for a minute, before Little Leota said, "I'm bored."

Even Ezra, who was determined to win a game, was starting to feel the monotony. He hardly had any sympathy for the girl. He did, however, have the great urge to play a prank. He reached his hand under the table and pulled off an ace card that had been stuck to it with an old piece of gum. He made sure no one was looking. Remembering his pickpocket days, he swiftly and sneakily slid it under Sewell's collar. The card slid down his sleeve and stuck out of the end.

_Too perfect._

"Sewell, what's that you got there?" asked Ezra loudly, pointing to the card.

Everyone looked up from his or her hand.

"Why," said Sewell in his thick, southern drawl, "I don't know how that got there."

Huet, a sharp looking man in a long black cloak and top hat, glared at him. He stroked his goatee thoughtfully. "If I didn't know any better, I'd say you were… CHEATING!"

"Cheating? Why I would never! I'm a perfectly honest southern gentleman."

"Confederate traitor, you mean!"

"Yellow bellied Yankee pansy!"

They both jumped up and tossed the table aside.

"Don't bend my cards!" cried Phineas.

"No, please," said Little Leota sarcastically. "Don't fight. Can't we all just get along?"

"Let's settle this like gentlemen," said Huet.

"Yes, sir! I challenge you to a duel!" said Sewell.

They turned their backs to each other, took five paces, turned, and…

"FIRE!" they shouted at once. The shots went off and bullets whizzed through the duelists. One shattered a wine bottle that was on the bar behind Huet.

"Not the booze!" screamed Phineas.

"Ha!" cried Sewell. "I shot you first."

"You did nothing of the sort," snapped Huet.

"Ahem." Prudence cleared her throat as she entered the room. "I hate to break up your little lovefest, but Master Gracey requests you presence in the conservatory." She glanced at the broken wine bottle and watched its contents trickle down to the floor. "That's not coming out of the carpet."

"Well," said Phineas as he watched the candelabra float out of the room. "I guess we better get going." He collected his cards and grabbed his carpetbag and vanished.

"I won that!" Little Leota cried.

"I'm right behind you, buddy," said Ezra. To Little Leota, he said, "You know, for providing you with that entertainment, I deserve my hat back."

She sighed. "I guess I-"

"Yoink!" He snatched it off her head. He cackled as he disappeared.

She sighed and put her chin on her hands. Gus stared at her. "Take your stupid manacle," she snapped. He took it, and then glanced at the wallet. "That's mine, midget!"

Gus blew a raspberry at her.

"Look who's calling the kettle black."

"Shut up, Sewell!" She watched as the others vanished. "I hate adults."

* * *

"What do you think he has planned?" Courtney asked Myrriah as they raced to the conservatory. 

"No idea, but it better be good."

The conservatory was packed. The spirits chatted anxiously with one another as they wandered in. In less than five minutes' time, rumors had already started circulating, most of which were too close to the truth. Emily, George knew, had to be behind that.

"What's this all about, Georgie?" asked Victoria as she rushed into the room. Several ghosts snickered.

"Victoria, please," George hissed into his aunt's ear as he tried to make his way to the front of the crowd.

"Please what?"

"Please don't call me 'Georgie' in front of the others."

"Why not, Georgie?" she asked as she lovingly adjusted his tie.

He rolled his eyes and decided to drop the argument. "Victoria, my jacket collar is fine," he muttered. "Quit fidgeting with it."

"Well, excuse me for trying to make me favorite nephew look presentable." She scoffed indignantly. "Now, just go on with your little speech."

"Thank you," he said through clenched teeth. He watched as several more ghosts made their way into the conservatory. He stood behind the coffin, using it as a sort of podium. "Ahem." He cleared his throat. Everyone continued talking. "Ahem!" he said a little louder. He was ignored.

"Quiet!" screamed Gus. He lifted up the chain attached to his ankle and slammed the metal ball down on the coffin. _BAM!_

That caught everyone's attention. Everything was silent except for a low "Ow!" from inside the coffin.

"Oops." Gus lifted up the coffin lid about an inch. "'S 'all right?"

"'S 'all right."

Gus carefully closed the lid.

"Uh, thank you," said George. He looked out into the crowd. "Friends. I have upsetting news. It seems our beloved mansion is going to be destroyed to make way for a shopping complex."

A hushed silence fell over the crowd.

"You're kidding, right?" asked Phineas.

"When did this happen?" cried Mr. Baker.

"I found out yesterday," George confessed. "Miss Harolds and Miss Carlson informed me."

Almost all of the other ghosts in the room turned and glared at Myrriah and Courtney. "A-heh," Myrriah chuckled weakly.

"Why didn't you tell us?" demanded Mr. Baker.

Emily pointed an accusing finger at George. "He made us promise not to!"

The spooks that had been glaring at the girls turned and glared at George. "I didn't want everyone to go into a panic," George explained. "I needed time to-"

"Panic?" yelled Ezra. "Panic! This is only our home we're talking about here! How can we not panic?"

"Georgie, how could you let this happen?" Victoria asked tearfully.

"I didn't just let it happen!" screamed George.

"Will everyone please calm down!" cried Dustin.

"Oh, Mr. Panic Attack is telling us to calm down?" Emily shouted at Dustin.

"Oh, shut up, you over-dramatic wench!"

And everyone started yelling and arguing, except for Myrriah and Courtney, who were just standing there looking bewildered.

Myrriah cupped her hands around her mouth and shouted, "We need to come up with a plan!" She was ignored.

"Don't interrupt," said an eerie yet sweet voice behind her. "The adults are talking."

Courtney and Myrriah turned around. Leaning against the wall with her arms crossed over her chest was the dainty Little Leota. She huffed, causing a few stray bangs to float up over her eyes. "You know, my mother could probably fix all of this just like that." She snapped her fingers.

"Who's your mom?" asked Courtney. The girl looked so familiar.

"Madam Leota," Little Leota answered nonchalantly as she inspected her fingernails. "She _could _help us, but mean ol' Master Gracey won't so much as let her leave her room."

"I wonder why," Myrriah muttered darkly.

Little Leota scowled at her. "As if you have any clue."

"I think Madam Leota seems nice," said Courtney.

"Yeah, well, she didn't give you a slide show of your death, did she?" snapped Myrriah.

"Why are you so touchy?" Courtney snapped back.

"Why are you so…" Myrriah stopped. "Do you hear that?" she asked quietly.

"What, the sound of your brain rattling around in your head?" retorted Courtney.

"I am going to just ignore that," Myrriah hissed through clenched teeth, "because you are my friend and we need to LISTEN!"

The arguing stopped and the spirits turned to look at Myrriah in astonishment. They had never heard the young lady scream so loud. "Shh," she whispered.

The ghosts strained to hear for a moment. "What is that rumbling in the distance?" asked Dustin.

"That is the sound of very, very large vehicles and construction equipment driving towards the mansion," Myrriah explained slowly as if the other ghosts were young children. "Now, are we all ready to be civil about this? Or do you all want to shout at each other some more?"

* * *

A/N: Little Leota is a name created by fans/cast members for the tiny spirit standing near the exit of the ride. The concept of her being Madam Leota's daughter is also a fan creation. 


	14. The Ghosts Fight Back

"So what's the plan?" asked Courtney.

"We'll take them head on," George replied, "and we'll do what we do best: We'll scare them." The ghosts cheered and agreed enthusiastically. Myrriah, however, seemed a little doubtful.

"What's wrong?" asked Courtney, forgetting their argument just moments earlier.

"I don't think simple scares are going to work."

"What do you suggest?"

"Sabotage. I just got to find the right person…" She thought about it for a moment and then snapped her fingers. "Phineas. I'm going to go find him. I'll be back." She took off through the crowd to search for him.

Little Leota scoffed. "No one even suggested asking my mother if she had any ideas. No one even thought about inviting her to the meeting."

Courtney watched as the other spirits made their way outside to confront the construction crew. "Hey, Lee-Lee-"

"Little Leota!" Little Leota cried with an indignant stamp of her foot.

"Whatever, look, I need to talk to your mom about something."

* * *

The dead denizens of the mansion stared up at the cranes apprehensively. Many had not seen such bizarre, scary machinery. Cranes used to demolish and to dig sat in waiting, rumbling quietly like a purring cat stalking a mouse. Grey clouds gathered overhead threateningly. 

"Right, boys," said a man in a stain covered work shirt, grubby jeans, and a hardhat. He wore a nametag that simply said 'Henry'. "Let's get this sucker down before it starts to storm."

"You know," said Dustin, sitting astride a very reluctant Rolly, who seemed to want nothing to do with the whole ordeal, "on this day, we face a more terrifying enemy than we have ever-"

"Get on with it!" shouted Ezra. The other members of their group shouted agreement.

Dustin sighed. "No one cares for a good going into battle speech anymore. Right, yes, well, charge!" He pointed forward with a horsewhip and ghosts rushed past him. Rolly turned and ran in the other direction. "No, Rolly! Wrong way boy!"

"So, do you have what we need?" Myrriah asked Phineas.

"Should have." He opened up his carpetbag and began rummaging around in it. He tossed out several boxes of microwave pizzas, a birdcage, what appeared to be an old movie script, "Meant to get that looked at by Spielberg," and various other junk. "Aha." He pulled out a long tool belt, which was fully equipped with every tool imaginable. "Time to get to work."

They snuck to different machines and proceeded to unscrew nuts and bolts and any little pieces that looked important. One that was unmanned actually started falling apart. Myrriah gave Phineas a high five. "Score," she cried.

Gus had discovered the crane that held the wrecking ball. He stared up at it fascinated. It certainly made his little shackle look puny. He jumped up into the driver's seat, scaring the poor man into jumping out. Gus cackled gleefully and rubbed his small hands together as he looked over the controls. It didn't look too difficult.

"Somebody's driving off with the wrecking ball!" one of the workers screamed. Everyone watched in horror as it took off down the street, with an odd little man driving it who was singing to himself. Several people chased after it, not knowing exactly what they would do once they caught up with it.

"Can't we go in and blow it up or something?" Henry asked a terrified construction worker.

"We can't, sir, there's suits of armor blocking the door."

"Well, just shove 'em aside. They're just metal suits for crying out loud."

"Not quite." The two men looked at the front porch. Brandishing huge axes and swords were two suits of armor. One looked at them, held out its hand and waved back at himself as if to say, "Bring it!"

"How do we get rid of the ghosts?" asked the worker.

"It's not ghosts," said Henry angrily. "It's some stupid illusion, like holograms and robots, like at the Disney parks."

"Do I look like a hologram to you, old chap?"

Henry slowly turned around. Dustin was clutching the horsewhip. He cracked it in the air mere centimeters from Henry's head. "Can a hologram do that?" Dustin asked.

Henry and the other construction worker bolted, with Dustin and Rolly at their heels and Dustin cracking the whip at their backsides. Henry pulled a cell phone out of his pocket and quickly dialed a number. "Get Michael out here!" he bellowed. "Ouch!" he yelped with a jump. "NOW! I don't care if he's in a meeting, we have some serious problems!" The cell phone was smacked out of his hand with the whip.

Meanwhile, Mr. Baker was in the ballroom, sitting at his organ. He was playing _Toccata and Fugue in D Minor _and cackling evilly. "Fly, my pretties, fly!" he cried as the skull wraiths flew out of the pipes. They soared out of the windows and began dive-bombing the workers, snarling and biting at their necks.

Total pandemonium ensued outside as ghosts chased after mortals. Two of the cranes had collapsed and no one knew where the wrecking ball was, (although, knowing Gus, Ezra guessed it was either in a lake or in Mexico). A large van sped down the road and pulled up to the mansion. It had a bizarre, psychedelic paint job, and large, fuzzy pink dice dangling from the rearview mirror. The doors opened and six teenagers, three boys and three girls younger than eighteen, jumped out.

"We demand you stop trying to demolish this house," shouted one of the boys.

Myrriah glanced in their direction and recognized one immediately. "Oh my God. Cody!"

"Yeah," cried Cody. He reached into the van and pulled out several signs and handed them to the others. "It's got as much of a right to stay here as you do!"

Myrriah slapped her hand over her face. "Cody, you clueless hippy wannabe. I hope he doesn't get out the guitar."

Cody reached into the van again and pulled out his guitar. "We're here to protest the senseless demolition of this beautiful mansion!"

"And the graveyard!" shouted one of the girls.

"Right, and the graveyard! This house is historic and you can't just tear it down!"

"Hey, look at all those guys dressed as ghosts!" said one of his friends. "Dude that's awesome!"

"I don't think those are costumes," said Cody slowly as he spotted Myrriah. "'Cause that's my little sister."

With tears in her eyes Myrriah ran to him. "Cody!" she cried.

For a second, he looked terrified, and then he just looked numb. "Myrriah?" he asked. He reached out a hand towards her and then pulled it back. Tears formed in his eyes and he hugged her. "Oh, sis, we've missed you so much. We visit every day, but…"

_Visit? _she thought. _He must mean my grave. _"I've missed you too." She didn't try to hold back her tears. "And I miss mom and dad," she sobbed. "And-and I miss the stupid songs you used to play, and arguing over the remote, and- and Cody I'm so sorry!"

"I'm sorry, too." He looked down at her. "Why are you here?"

Myrriah wiped away her tears and sniffed. "All of the ghosts live, uh, haunt here. It's our home."

"It doesn't seem right," said Cody. "You shouldn't be here."

"Courtney and I never tried to cross over and I didn't want to go back home."

"Courtney's here, too?"

She nodded. After looking around, she said, "I don't know where she is, though. Come to think of it, I haven't seen her out here." She happened to glance around Cody's shoulder. "Cody look out!"

He jumped just as a red sports car came to a screeching halt just a few feet away from where he had been standing. A man with reddish brown hair, an expensive suit, and sunglasses stepped out of the car. He looked to be in his early forties and he was in decent shape and was average height. He yanked off his sunglasses and looked down at his Italian loafers. He groaned with disgust at the sight of the dirt that he had gotten on them. "What the hell's going on?" he demanded.

"We're staging a protest," Cody explained, looking shocked. He had expected a "Sorry I nearly ran you over kid." He pushed his blond bangs out of his eyes and scowled. "Who are you?"

"Michael Burton, the owner of this property. So you need to get off it, punk!"

"Mike! It has been so long since I've seen you," gushed a deep voice.

With wide-eyed terror, Michael looked at the speaker. "You! I remember you!"

"I was hoping you would," said Master Gracey with his smug smile. "How have you and Karen been?"

"You stay away from me!"

"I'm honestly curious about this, Mike," said Master Gracey, his tone becoming dark, "how did you come to own my mansion, huh?"

"It doesn't matter!" cried Mike. "The point is, it's mine now and I'm turning it into the Liberty Square Mega Mall!"

"What about the ghosts and the tours? Don't you remember how much fun you had?"

"Fun! I've woken up every night with images of your dead body hanging from the rafters! I hate this place!"

"You can't just…" Before Master Gracey could say anything else, the sky became completely dark as clouds covered the sun. Thunder roared and the wind began to blow and howl. Lightning flashed across the sky and struck the mansion's bat shaped weather vane. Sickly green light filled the house and poured out of the windows. "Oh no!"

"What is it?" Myrriah had to scream to be heard above the storm.

"Leota!"


	15. Interesting Developments

Paul sat in his darkroom, developing his photographs. His darkroom was his sanctuary. It was the only place where the other kids couldn't make fun of him and call him Harry Potter. (Oh, how he hated that!) He couldn't help that he had messy black hair and glasses. Okay, well, maybe he could, but he never felt like combing his hair neatly and contacts scared him. He wasn't about to stick a little, round lens onto his eyeball. That just sounded too gross to him.

The darkroom had once been a small office, but Paul's father had a larger office built shortly after the Burton family had moved into the house. Paul had begged his parents to let him use the tiny room as his own darkroom, rather than as a third bathroom as his mother had suggested. He quickly set to work, blocking the window and putting up a clothesline to hang his pictures on so they could properly dry. After he dragged a tiny, kiddy wading pool into the room, everything was complete. He spent more time in there than his own bedroom.

He held up a photograph and stared at it. It was a picture of a small group of women in very old-fashioned bathing suits playing and splashing each other in a river. The women, he noted, were wispy and transparent, and looked as if they hadn't known someone was taking a picture of them.

_Gracey, you've got issues_, Paul thought as he shook his head. Another picture, this one his favorite, was of Courtney and Myrriah. They seemed to be giving a short ghost with a long beard a makeover. The male ghost was holding up a little hand mirror and the two girls were laughing as they put curlers in his hair and beard. He felt a stab of guilt as he thought of his two new friends. He tried all he could to convince his father to not build the mall where Gracey Manor stood. After pleading and begging his dad, he did something he regretted. He started arguing with him. They often fought a lot, anyway, so that was nothing new. Of course, he'd never actually won any of those arguments, and the same thing happened that happened every time: He was grounded for a week.

He looked over all of his pictures as they dried. One in particular caught his attention. It wasn't a great photograph and he almost threw it away. It was a blurry image of the bride with one hand in front of her face and the other hand in front of the camera and somebody in the background holding something. That somebody was his father and he seemed to be holding up a sheet of paper. Paul grabbed a magnifying glass and peered closer at the paper. At the top of it in bold calligraphy was the word **DEED**.

"Oh dad how could you?" _And I defended him too! _Paul walked into his father's office and searched through the filing cabinet where any important paperwork was kept. Five minutes into his search, he found it, the deed to Gracey Manor. He grabbed it and the photograph and ran outside. He got on his bike and peddled as fast as he could, not caring that he would get into even more trouble later. There were some things that were a little more important than being grounded.

* * *

The clouds had turned a poisonous green as if the sky was nauseous. The storm raged on and the wind whipped furiously, sending the remaining construction workers fleeing for safety. Mike, however, remained rooted to the spot. 

"What's going on Gracey?" he demanded. "Is this another one of your 'tricks of the light'?"

"No!" George yelled. "I'm not doing this! Leota must have gotten out! But how?"

"Courtney's still in there!" cried Myrriah. "I've got to go get her!"

"No," said Cody. "I don't want you to get hurt."

"I'm dead, there's not much more that can happen to me!"

"Then I'm going in with you!"

"No, you and your friends should leave. Think about how mom and dad would react if something happened to you. Without one of us there, they wouldn't be able to live anymore." With tearful eyes, she gave him one last hug. "Bye Cody."

"Bye sis. Good luck."

"Thanks." She watched as he reluctantly climbed back into the van. "I'm going to need it." She turned back to the mansion. She couldn't bear watching them drive away.

As she headed for the mansion, Dustin cried out, "You can't be serious!"

"My best friend is in there!"

He looked fearfully at the mansion and gave a nervous sigh. "Oh, I'm probably going to be torn into little itty bitty bits of ectoplasm and scattered to the four corners of the earth for this, but…" He reached down and pulled her up onto the horse. "Giddy-up, Rolly!" The horse reared up and then took off, surprisingly in the right direction. "I'll get you there fast. Hold on!"

"Hey," said Phineas, nudging Ezra's side, "we can't let the kid fight off Leota alone. Come on!"

"Well, nothing better to do," Ezra muttered as he ran after Phineas.

George watched his friends as they disappeared into the house. "I'll deal with you later," he said, glaring at Mike. Michael was trembling with fear as the ghost walked away. He screamed and ducked just in time as the sign for the Liberty Square Mega Mall flew towards him.

"Ha!"

Then the tree branch hit the back of his head and he was knocked out.

* * *

The foyer was eerily calm as Rolly slowly clomped in. Everything looked normal, with the exception of George's portrait, which hung above the fireplace. Rather than the image of the young man with the wistful smile on his face, it depicted a skeleton in a tattered tuxedo. 

"It's quiet," said Dustin.

"Too quiet," Myrriah added.

Right on cue, a shrill scream came from the direction of the ballroom. Rolly whinnied and snorted and stepped back and forth nervously. Dustin patted his head. "Stay here boy," he said as he and Myrriah climbed down from the horse. Rolly seemed perfectly content with that order as Myrriah and Dustin quietly headed to the ballroom.

"What's the deal with Leota, anyway?" asked Myrriah.

"Madam Leota was a sorceress of sorts, and a very wicked woman. She was extremely bitter and jealous as well."

"Jealous of who?"

Dustin smiled. "Anyone who had Master Gracey's attention."

"She had a crush on him, huh?"

"It was more of an obsession, really. I don't think she loved him so much as she just wanted to be the center of attention. I'm probably not the right person to ask, though. I died shortly after she arrived at the mansion as George's live-in psychic." He lowered his voice to a whisper. "They say though, that she's the one who killed Emily, as well as many others."

Myrriah remembered what Emily had said to her when she and Courtney had been in the attic. _"I was murdered on my wedding night. I was locked in this trunk." She tapped an old trunk with her foot. "Some jealous, horrible person shut it and locked it while I was playing hide and seek with my new husband."_ "I guess she wasn't making that up after all. So why is Leota stuck in the crystal ball?"

"It's said that George tricked her into imprisoning herself in it when they died. He never speaks of it and I certainly have never asked him about it." He was interrupted by another scream, this one louder. They ran to the ballroom and gasped at the sight before them. Wispy specters with decayed faces, fangs and claw like hands flew around the room, snarling and shrieking. The wraiths from Mr. Baker's organ were trying to fight them off. Sewell and Huet were there as well, trying to shoot the ugly ghouls.

"What's going on?" asked Dustin.

"We got here shortly after things were gettin' weird," said Sewell. "We figured something was up when that storm started brewin'."

"Baker had already taken quite a beating by the time we got here," added Huet. He nodded toward the organ, where Mr. Baker was sitting. His cape and hat were askew and he had a black eye. Victoria was sitting by his side, fanning him and fussing over him.

"Whomever these guys are," Huet continued, "they don't want us to get near Leota's room. She's the one behind all this."

"We know," said Myrriah with a sigh. "But I've got to get in there." She looked up at the flying specters and at Leota's door. It was so close… "I'm going in. Cover me."

"Oh dear," muttered Dustin as he watched her dash out of the room. One of the ghouls had caught sight of her and flew after her. "Hey! You, you, uh, poor excuse for a flying sheet!" The ghoul turned and glared at him. "That's right I'm talking to you! What kind of tough guy are you, chasing a little girl, huh?"

"I hope George gets here soon," Myrriah whimpered as she stepped into Leota's room. "Because I have no clue what I'm doing!"


	16. The Battle with Leota

It felt as if tornado had settled in Madam Leota's room. Tarot cards, instruments, and more decayed, screaming wraiths were flung and spun in fierce gales. In-between the shrieking ghouls and the wind, Myrriah could hear someone chanting. It was monotonous, almost hypnotic, and in an exotic melodic language she couldn't name or comprehend. In the center of the room, hovering above the crystal ball is Madam Leota, complete with a transparent body.

In one corner of the room standing in a cage made of crackling green energy was Courtney. Her large eyes grew wider when she spotted Myrriah. "Get the book!" she screamed. She nodded her head toward a small red book that was caught up in the whirlwind.

Madam Leota stopped her chanting for a moment and glared at Myrriah.

_Aw, monkey fudger!_

Leota raised her right hand and green energy shot out of her palm and wrapped around Myrriah's torso like a rope, binding Myrriah's arms to her sides. With a flick of her wrist, Madam Leota pulled the girl to her. "What are you doing here, you insolent little whelp?"

"You know, I haven't the faintest," Myrriah replied truthfully. Leota flung her into the cage. She cried out in pain as she hit the bars and the energy crackled with the impact.

"Hi," said Courtney. "Uh, I shouldn't have yelled."

"Yeah." Myrriah rubbed her head and studied the cage. "Ghost proof, I take it?"

"Yep. Don't go touching the bars, it burns."

"We're all royally screwed, aren't we?"

"Yep."

"What happened?"

"Well," Courtney began, looking sheepish. "Leota promised me that she would bring us back to life if I set her free."

"And you believed her?"

"I didn't know she was evil, okay! I miss my family and I know you do too! You probably wouldn't have passed up the offer either."

Myrriah sighed and sat down on the floor. "You're right. I wouldn't have passed up the offer." She pulled her knees to her chest and rested her chin on one knee. "Sorry."

"Aw, don't worry about it," Courtney said as she plopped down next to her. "I suppose we just sit back and watch all Hell break loose, huh?"

And that's exactly what happened.

* * *

Paul dropped his bike and ran into the yard. At the sight of his unconscious father, he panicked and ran to his side. "Dad? Dad are you okay?" 

Mike groaned and lifted his head. He slowly opened his eyes. "Paul? What are you doing here? You're supposed to be grounded."

Paul scowled at him and glanced at the mansion. "What's happening?"

"Don't know. But that cowardly construction crew ran off!"

With a disgusted sigh, Paul left his father lying on the ground and raced into the mansion. As he entered the ballroom, a shrieking spirit with long claws dove for him. Sewell tackled Paul to the ground.

"What are you doing here, boy?"

"Would you believe I was trying to save you?"

"A whole bunch more just showed up!" cried Phineas. He, Ezra, Sewell, Huet, Mr. Baker, Victoria, George and many others were trying to fight off the fiendish phantoms. "They're coming out of Leota's room! That is not a good sign! We need backup!"

Just then, Emily walked into the room. One of the evil ghouls grabbed at her veil, yanking it off and messing up her hair in the process. He cackled wickedly as he made a U-turn and sped back towards her.

"My hair! YOU MESSED UP MY HAIR!" screamed Emily.

"Oh boy," muttered Ezra.

Emily was seething with anger and her glowing heart beat furiously. The ghoul who had been flying towards her stopped in his tracks. He whimpered and headed back in the opposite direction.

"Come back here you little punk!" Emily jumped on him, pinned him to the floor, and proceeded to beat him into a little ectoplasmic pulp. She stood up. "Who else wants some, huh?"

The other ghouls exchanged terrified glances and tried to fly out the window.

"Oh, you're not getting away that easily!"

"Uh, I think it's safe to assume that we can hold down the fort while you sneak into Leota's room," Dustin said to George. "The girls are in there," he added, looking guilty for not rushing to their rescue.

George nodded and walked to Leota's room with Ezra, Phineas, and Paul at his heels.

"We're right behind you, old friend," said Ezra, surprisingly serious. As they entered the room and took in the sight before them, he hastily added, "By 'right behind' I mean many, many miles away. Preferably in the next state."

"No time to chicken out now," said Phineas. "Hey, where's Gus?"

His question was drowned out by the sudden explosion that shook the entire house. With a thunderous CRACK! the floor opened up. Leota cackled and looked down into the abyss. "Wretched souls of the damned, rise out of the Netherworld and join your new mistress!" The heroic group watched in horror as horrid spirits, much like the rotting creatures that had gotten into the ballroom, rose out of the crevice. These, however, were much more vile and evil and made the previous ghouls just minor minions in comparison.

"Stop this right now, Leota!" George bellowed. Everything came to a sudden standstill.

"Oh, Master Gracey," Leota replied sweetly with a chuckle. "So nice of you to stop by. How long has it been? Five…fifty…ninety years!" She pointed an accusing finger at him. "Do you have any idea what it's like being stuck in that prison?" Her eyes burned like green flames.

George smirked smugly. "I put you in there once, I'll do it again."

She laughed. "You? And what army? A couple of pickpockets, some air headed little girls," she gestured to the cage, "and a foolish mortal?" She chuckled at the sight of Paul, who was trying very hard to look tough. "Very well, so be it." She snapped her fingers and her hellish minions marched forward. "Purge the mansion of all those who would oppose me!" she commanded. "And you," she hissed at George, "I will deal with you myself."

A ball of magic formed in her hand and she flung it at him. A shot went off it was thrown off course, hitting one of the ghouls and sending him back into the pit. George turned to see Sewell, who was blowing into the barrel of his shotgun. "Nice shootin', Tex!"

"T'weren't nothin'," said Sewell, and he ran in the direction of a group of ghouls.

George grinned at Leota as she let out a frustrated cry. "Has anyone ever told you how ugly you are when you're angry? I know as well as you do that you couldn't have gotten out by yourself, so where's that lovely little book of yours? You know, the one that your minions hid from me before I banished them?" He ducked out of the way as she threw another blast of magic at him.

Paul ran over to the cage. "How do I get you guys out?"

"Don't worry about that right now," said Courtney. "Just grab that red book and find the passage that will stop this." She pointed to the book, which was floating amongst the musical instruments and various other items several feet above their heads.

"Oh, gee, that won't be hard at all," he muttered sarcastically. He gritted his teeth in determination, ran, and took a flying leap and grabbed onto a floating table. He stood on it unsteadily, and reached for the book. The moment he had it in his grasp, one of Leota's ghouls grabbed him and threw him against the wall. The book flew from his clutches. "No!" He scrambled for it, and was pounced on by the ghoul.

"Paul!" cried Courtney. She reached out between the bars of the cage as far as she could and managed to drag the book towards her with the tips of her fingers. When it was close enough, she picked it up and pulled it into the cage.

The grotesque ghoul leapt for the cage and hit the bars. The girls watched in horror as he burned and sizzled into a puff of smoke.

"Man, you weren't kidding about touching those," Myrriah murmured. "Now let's find the spell."

Courtney read a short incantation and the cage vanished. "Uh, that's not exactly what I wanted, but it's a nice start."

"No it's not," corrected Myrriah as three ghouls ran towards them. Suddenly, something invisible knocked them over. The unseen being stomped on the trio and whinnied proudly.

"Good boy Rolly!" Myrriah shouted.

"Found it!" cried Courtney. "Banishment!" She began to read the spell out loud. Another whirlwind started, this one pulling the demonic spirits back down into the abyss. She gave Myrriah a high five too soon.

One of them grabbed Courtney's ankle and began to drag her down with him. Myrriah grabbed her hand and slipped. She was yanked back as Phineas got a hold of one of her ankles. Ezra had to grab his feet. Just as he was about to tumble, he felt someone pull his leg. He looked back.

Gus was pulling with all his might. A large sombrero that kept falling over his eyes obscured his vision. "_Hola_!"

"Don't '_hola_' me! Pull man!" Ezra cried. He stared back down into the chasm and noticed that the edges were moving closer together. With renewed panic he added, "The crevice is starting to close!"

Courtney tossed the book up onto the floor of the séance room, and with her free hand pummeled the ghoul holding onto her ankle. He finally let go and the five ghosts flew back and landed safely on the floor just as the gap closed.

George and Leota were still fighting. The book slid to a stop near his feet and he quickly grabbed it.

"No!" screamed Leota. But it was too late for her. As he read aloud a spell that had been book marked years ago, she was dragged, kicking and screaming, back into the crystal ball.

George smiled his smug smile and placed the crystal ball carefully onto the table. "Phenomenal cosmic power. Itty bitty living space." He picked up a filthy old blanket and draped it over her prison, muffling her protests and cursing. He cleared his throat, turned and looked at Courtney.

"A-heh. How'd you know it was me?" she asked nervously.

"Oh, just a little guess," said George with a sigh. "Miss Carlson, never, _ever, _make a deal with _anyone_ here without consulting me first."

Paul staggered over to Courtney. "Hey."

"You're all right!" she cried, giving him a bone-crunching hug. "You stupid, stupid, cute boy!" She kissed his cheek and hugged him again and laughed.

Phineas looked at Gus. "Wow, you really did make it down to Mexico with that crane."

"_Si_."

"So, what do we do now?" asked Myrriah as she followed George out of the séance room. He silently walked into the ballroom and surveyed the damage. He looked at his friends, who seemed a little weary and battered, but otherwise fine. The ghosts of Gracey Manor were certainly the bravest, most loyal he had ever known. "Well, miss Harolds," he said with a kind smile, "I suppose we-"

"Hold it! Hold everything!" shouted Mike as he stormed into the mansion. The ghosts turned and looked at him as he stomped into the ballroom. He glared at his son. "How dare you just leave me like that?" As Paul opened his mouth to say something, he snapped, "Not a word, young man! I will deal with you later!" He turned to George. "This is still my property, Gracey! I suggest that you and your dead pals skeedaddle out of here before this house becomes a pile of rubble."

"No!" shouted Paul. "It's not your property! Not anymore!" He pulled the deed out of his pocket and handed it to Master Gracey. "You stole the deed, dad! I even have proof!" Next he took out the photograph and held it up to his father's face. Before his dad could take it, he pulled it back and handed it to George.

"Well," said George, "the camera doesn't lie, Mikey." He tucked the deed into his coat pocket. "I'll just hide this in a safe place. You know, it's kind of sad really. You used to be such a good kid." He turned to Ezra, Phineas, and Gus. "Please escort Mr.Burton out to his automobile, would you?"

"Sure thing," said Ezra, cracking his bony knuckles. He and Phineas grabbed each arm and Gus opened the door. They dragged him to the open door, swung him back and flung him outside. He landed with a thud and scrambled for his car.

"Hu-ry baack!" sang Phineas. Ezra and Gus joined in. "Hu-ry baack! Be sure to bring your death certificate!" They cackled and slammed the door.

"Hey!" cried out an indignant voice. Little Leota stamped her foot. "That's my line!"

"There's something bugging me," said Myrriah to George. "Why was that deed just sitting in the attic?"

"It wasn't," said George, looking slightly bewildered when he looked back at the photograph. "I thought I had this locked in a drawer in my office."

Emily chuckled nervously.

"Emily…"

"Well," she began, "I found out where you hid it and I thought that maybe it could add a sense of story if I had it hanging up near me. You know, if people saw it, they would think that I had been brutally murdered to get the deed."

"And you didn't realize that that was what had been pilfered!"

"Um, no, actually, I kind of had forgotten that I put it there. Silly me, huh?"

George held back any sharp remark and shook his head and laughed.

"Well, what are we waiting for, Georgie?" asked Victoria.

"Yeah," added Courtney. "Let's get this party started!" She grabbed Paul and dragged him out onto the dance floor as Mr. Baker began to play.

"Not bad for newbies," said Ezra.

"Yeah," added Phineas. "I'll think you'll fit in just fine."

* * *

A/N: That "Itty bitty living space" line comes from _Aladdin_ and the "Hu-ry back" line is from the ride. It's Little Leota's famous quote. Stay tuned for the final chapter, which should be up next weekend! 


	17. Going HomeAnd a Surprise!

A/N: The character April/December was inspired by the April/December changing portrait in the Disneyland ride, although I've heard that it's been taken out recently and I don't know when/if it's going to be put back in.

* * *

The band and Mr. Baker were playing their instruments, and Courtney had started a conga line. Such a grand party had not taken place in the ballroom in years. Ezra and Myrriah were singing, with the busts acting as backup: 

George was dancing with the fair Miss April, a stunningly beautiful young woman. The brunette's hair was in a loose bun, tiny tendrils had escaped and cascaded stylishly around her heart shaped face. Her elegant pink dress swirled around her ankles as she and George twirled across the dance floor.

"You look lovely this evening," said George. With a sly smile he added, "Of course, you always look lovely."

She blushed, batted her eyelashes, and giggled. "George Gracey, you always know just what to say to make a girl feel pretty."

He laughed, spun her, and then dipped her. "You really are the most gorgeous spirit here."

Her ruby red lips curled into a seductive smile and she batted her eyelashes again. "I bet you say that to all the ghouls."

"Yeah, but with you I mean it." Both of them chuckled and he leaned in to kiss her and…

"GAH!" He let go of her and jumped back in disgust.

She was no longer the beautiful, youthful April. No, the woman who stood before him was December-withered, old, and a hag. Her gray hair hung limply around her gaunt face and her skin was wrinkled.

"Don't do that!" he shouted.

"Aw, what's wrong George?" she asked in a scratchy voice. "Don't you find me irresistible?" She winked at him and blew him a kiss. The ghosts around them laughed so hard tears streamed down their cheeks. "Okay," she said as she scanned the crowd. "Where's Phineas? He's owes me five bucks for this." She wandered out into the throng of spooks to search for him.

George tried to salvage as much pride as he could and walked over to a small table. Scattered across it were some tools and a radio. Sitting in a purple rocking chair next to the table was Paul. He picked up the radio, which resembled a small black box with a long antenna, and screwed the back into place. After the party had started, George had run into his office and grabbed the radio, which he had been tinkering with earlier, and rushed back out and asked Paul if he could fix it.

"Well?" asked George as he looked over the boy's shoulder.

Paul turned the radio on. It hissed and crackled, and after the antenna had been moved about, a clear channel came in. He grinned. "Seems to work fine Mr. Gracey. Of course, I wouldn't have had to fix it if _someone _hadn't taken it apart, piece-by-piece."

"Hmm, wonder who that could have been," muttered George. He turned up the volume and listened as a radio announcer finished the weather forecast for the rest of the week.

"In Liberty Square news," said another announcer, "an attempt to demolish the fabled Gracey Manor failed today." With a grin, George turned the volume all the way up and called out to the others to quiet down. They listened intently as the announcer continued. "It seems a violent storm over the area scared away the construction crew." The ghosts scoffed. "Some of the construction crew members claim that terrifying _ghosts _frightened them away. Earlier today, a crane from the site with a wrecking ball attached to it was found in the bottom of a lake in Mexico." Gus laughed.

The announcer cleared his throat. "On a serious note, two teenage girls who have been in a coma for the past six months are going to be taken off life support systems tonight. Courtney Carlson and Myrriah Harolds, who were in a car wreck nearly six months ago, have no chance of recovery. Rather than let them stay in a vegetative state any longer, their parents have agreed to take them off life support systems tonight at seven PM."

It was so quiet in the ballroom that you could hear a pin drop. The ghosts turned and looked at Myrriah and Courtney. Courtney's jaw had dropped and her eyes were wide in shock. Myrriah looked as if she was trying very hard to speak, but her mouth didn't want to work right.

"Do you know what this means?" Myrriah finally managed to sputter.

Courtney silently shook her head, still in shock.

"It means we're not dead! Not yet, anyway. But how?"

George furrowed his brow and thought it over. After nearly a minute of silent contemplation, he said quietly, "Temporary displacement."

"What?" Courtney and Myrriah asked at once.

"Temporary displacement," he repeated slowly. "It means that you left your body too soon. You had an out of body experience, and you strayed too far and didn't go back when you were supposed to. Your bodies are still alive, but without your soul, your spirit, what makes you _you_, it can't really do much."

"And if we don't get back before life support gets cut off?" Myrriah asked cautiously, already knowing the answer.

George looked grim. "Then you will remain ghosts."

"We have to get to our bodies!" cried Courtney. "Where would they be?"

Myrriah thought about it for a second. "The Liberty Square Hospital."

George took out his pocket watch to check the time. "It's six forty."

"How could we get to the hospital in time?" Courtney asked fearfully.

Clearing his throat, Dustin stepped forward. "Well ladies, there's always my way."

* * *

Courtney, Dustin, and Myrriah clambered onto the hearse bench. Rolly was hitched to the buggy, snorting nervously. Several ghosts were standing nearby, waving them goodbye. Emily was sobbing loudly. 

"Oh, Myrriah, they look so happy," said Courtney.

"It's because we're leaving," replied Myrriah.

Paul ran outside, clutching a scrap of paper. He handed it to Courtney. "That's my phone number," he explained. "Give me a call to let me know you're all right."

She leaned down and gave him a hug. "Will do."

George stepped forward and shook the girls' hands. "I'll miss you, emu girls. You know, when you do die, you're welcome to come back and stay with us. There's always room for you two."

"We'll keep that in mind," Myrriah said with a smile. She and Courtney gave the ghosts final goodbyes.

"Are you sure you know the way?" Courtney asked Dustin.

Dustin grinned. "Positive, Miss Carlson." He picked up the whip and raised it up. Then he looked at the space where Rolly was standing, and back at the whip. He put it back into its holder. "No point in beating a dead horse."

Myrriah rolled her eyes and laughed.

"Giddy up Rolly!" Dustin said as he snapped the reins. The spirits waved and cheered them on. Rolly started at a slow trot at first, and then picked up speed as the hearse careened down the long driveway and onto the road.

"We should stay as far away from traffic as possible," Myrriah suggested. "A buggy being lead by and invisible horse is liable to cause a few car accidents."

Dustin nodded and steered Rolly over a sidewalk and into a wooded area. "Wait," cried Myrriah, "this is a park!"

The last half of her cry was cut off as a stereo blared, sending Rolly into a panic. The horse took off at breakneck speed through the park. He ran past a group of kids who were listening to the stereo. Rolly trampled their picnic, but the mortals were too scared to be worried about their food as they jumped out of the way.

"Terribly sorry about that!" Dustin shouted to them. Rolly, who by now was quite sick of the park, ambled over a sidewalk, and onto a road. Dustin's attention to any possible approaching traffic was stolen as a familiar voice near the back of the hearse said happily: "Hey, I snagged the pie!"

Dustin, Myrriah, and Courtney slowly turned around. Ezra, Phineas, and Gus were sitting on the roof of the hearse, admiring their picnic loot.

"So what?" Ezra said to Phineas. "_I _got the egg salad."

"Frisbee!" shouted Gus happily, waving his prize in the air.

"Ahem," Dustin cleared his throat.

The trio stopped arguing and turned to the driver. "Oh, hi," Phineas said. "We just wanted to-"

"Eighteen wheeler!" screamed Courtney. "EIGHTEEN WHEELER! TURN!"

Rolly froze in the truck's headlights until the driver blared his horn at what he thought was a small, oddly shaped car in front of him. With a whinny of equine terror, Rolly ran as fast as his hooves could carry him. After a lot of Dustin shouting at him, he finally came to a stop in a parking lot in front of large, glass automatic doors. Above the doors were the words "Liberty Square Hospital Emergency Entrance."

"Well," Dustin said somberly, "we're here."

"Wait!" shouted Gus as the girls started to climb down. They stopped.

"We came along to give you guys some gifts," Phineas explained. He opened his carpetbag and pulled out a pocket watch and a derby. He handed the watch to Courtney and the hat to Myrriah. The girls didn't bother to ask whom they had been stolen from. Actually, the hat looked as if it had belonged to Ezra. The watch was in very good condition, even if it was old. The initials PQ had been carved into it.

Gus looked around for something to give them. Sometime during the drive he had lost the Frisbee. He took off his shackles and held them up to Courtney.

"Eh, keep it," said Courtney.

"We wanted to give you two something to remember us by," said Ezra. "And we've dubbed you honorary hitchhikers. So after you die, you have all the privileges and exclusive benefits of being a hitchhiking ghost."

Myrriah was about to ask what exactly those privileges and benefits were when Courtney cried out, "It's six fifty-five!"

"We've got to go," said Myrriah. "Thanks guys, it really means a lot." Gus threw his arms around her and sobbed. She patted his head.

"Take care of yourselves girls," said Dustin. "We'll miss you, but we don't want you haunting at the Manor for a long, long time, if you get my point."

Myrriah hugged him. "Thanks Dustin. After we get our lives back together, I'm going to get you a new hearse."

"Oh, don't worry about that. Some more strips of duct tape, a little bit of glue, a new coat of paint, and the buggy will be as good as new."

"Six fifty-eight!" snapped Courtney, who was standing by the doors. "Hurry it up!"

Myrriah jumped down from the hearse and waved good-bye to the ghosts. Then the two best friends ran into the hospital just in time to get new leases on their lives.

* * *

Two months had passed. Life had not been extremely easy, but it had not been too difficult either. The physical therapy appointments were actually helping things, and as much as Courtney would hate to admit it, going back to school was fun. 

Myrriah and Cody never told their parents about what had happened at the mansion. They had decided it would be best to keep it their own secret. In fact, Courtney and Myrriah kept all of their adventures, including their time spent at Gracey Manor, a secret from their parents and classmates. They figured no one would believe them anyway.

The trees were practically naked, save for a few orange and brown leaves. A huge harvest moon provided the perfect light for trick-or-treaters as they went from door to door asking for candy. A small blue car made its way down a meandering dirt road.

"C'mon Cody," pleaded Myrriah. "Give me back my glasses!"

"Not until we get to where we're going," said Cody from the diver's seat. He glanced up into the rearview mirror. Courtney and Myrriah were sitting in the backseat with blindfolds over their eyes. Cody had even taken the extra precaution to take Myrriah's glasses away from her.

"Yeah," added Paul, who was riding shot gun. "We're almost there."

Courtney frowned. "I hope this blindfold didn't smudge my makeup too much."

"Considering how hideous you already look, how would we be able to tell?" joked Myrriah.

Courtney made a blind swing and hit her.

Everyone was in costume. Cody was wearing an old, faded tuxedo. The end of a noose hung around his neck. Paul's outfit was a battered old suit and top hat. He carried a carpetbag that he insisted was perfect for candy. Myrriah and Courtney both had painted their faces white, with black around their eyes and cheekbones. Shackled around one of Courtney's ankles was a plastic chain connected to a hollow plastic ball. She wore a long striped, dingy shirt, grungy jeans, and a fake beard. Her short brown hair was messy. Myrriah was wearing her derby, a long coat with frayed edges, old slacks, and a bow tie. She had drawn a rib cage on the shirt she was wearing, so any part that was not covered by the coat would show bones to give the costume a more "skeletal" effect.

Cody's car soon crawled to a stop. The boys got out and opened the doors for the girls. Then they led them inside a building, handed Myrriah her glasses, tore off the blindfolds and-

"SURPRISE!"

Myrriah and Courtney squealed in delight at the sight of all of the ghosts, their old friends, before them. The ballroom had been decorated with orange and black streamers, Halloween decorations, and black and orange balloons. Earlier that day, Paul and Cody had set up a stereo and huge speakers and a karaoke machine. Punch and snacks, including a cake with the likeness of the mansion on it, were laid out on the table.

The party soon got underway, and the hitchhikers and George got a kick out of seeing the mortals dressed up as them. Emily, however, was a little miffed. "Why didn't anybody dress up like _me_?"

"I almost miss the whole ghost thing," Myrriah said to Courtney. "Floating, going through walls, scaring people. It was fun."

"Yeah," agreed Courtney. "But do you know what I miss more?"

"What's that?"

"Cake!"

And they raced to the table.

* * *


End file.
